Monday, January 30, 2006

My old boyfriend is back!

His name is Jim. Or more properly, Gym. Hubby calls him, Gime (like Time with a G) reminiscent of the Simpson's Powersauce episode*. Don't roll your eyes, you've seen it. Yes you haaaaaaaaaave.

I loved Gym long time when I was in high school, particularly my senior year when I broke all rules of high school convention and went single like the independent butterfly that I was. I saw Gym at least 6 days a week, even after cheating on him with the lap pool at my place of work (I was a lifeguard back then-oh the tan lines).

Nothing could lure me from his grasp. I loved everything about Gym. The step classes, the free weights, the cardio equipment. It was love at first sight. Kimo, my "personal trainer" (I use quotes here because he was assigned to me for my introductory evaluation "courtesy" of 24 Hour Fitness**. Who knows if he was even certified.) was a big tall drink of Mai Tai -- a hawaiian body builder with an adorable accent that always called my skinny little arms, "Big Guns" when he saw me on the machines. What can I say, I'm a sucker for obviously misplaced but still sweet comments on my physique. Oh yes, I was in amazing shape back then and I owed it all to Gym. The most loyal boyfriend a girl could want. Available 24 hours a day for pushing, pulling, sweating and screaming. Yeah, we screamed in step class, what of it?

So what happened to Gym, you ask? We had a falling out when I moved away to college and dumped him for my new friends Beer and Parties. I mean, it didn't happen all at once. I strung it out for most of my freshman year, seeing him 3 or 4 times a week and pretending everything was the same. My pants still fit the same, I still wore a thong bikini on Spring Break ***. I did a good job acting like we were still on track, even with the bags under my eyes at my 6am workouts and the weight on the scale (before we had fancy digital scales people) slowly inching its way to the right. I held on! I still loved Gym!

But it was not to be. Beer and Parties proved to be too strong a force to compete with. I lost touch with Gym to the tune of 1 to 2 days per week at best. I buried my size 4s at the bottom of thr drawer so that they'd not see me ignoring them for the, ahem, other clothes. Also to the bottom of the drawer went the thong bikini. No, it would not want me where I was going.

So, why am I writing about this long lost relationship? Because he's back, people! Gym is back! And I'm pretty sure it's for real this time. Yeah, yeah, you hear that all the time, but I swear! I mean, I'll admit, I pussy-footed around with some similar characters, but those were just half-assed attempts to regain what I had with Gym back in the day. No, this is the real thing.

We had our first date this morning. It was 6am, I was groggy, I was disoriented by the bright lights and my misbehaving iPod, but he was there, ready for me to come on in and hop on a treadmill. I ran my warm up mile with a spring in my 6.3 mph step and we happily watched SportsCenter just like in the old days. The chest and tricep machines welcomed me as though I'd never strayed. My fingers went right back to their old spots, finding the weights and grips like we'd never skipped a day. I began to wonder what had been keeping me away from Gym all this time.

After a full round of chest and tricep exercises, some abs and a cool down mile (with a Big Finish****, I might add) I felt a swell in my chest and a smile appear on my face. Gym was back and I was getting a good feeling about our future together.

I'll continue to keep you updated with the progress of our relationship, although I am not making any concrete promises about the outcome. I'm taking it one day at a time and hoping that we can make it work this time. The true test will be getting back into that thong. Oh yeah, it's still at the bottom of my drawer, waiting to emerge in all it's neon yellow glory, no matter what the styles of the moment might dictate.

*Homer goes out walking in the middle of the night after an embarrasing game of Capture the Flag that leaves him heaving. He sees an illuminated sign that reads, "Gym" and he reads it out loud as, "Gime". Later he is recruited by the Powersauce company to climb the Murderhorn.

**Back then it was 24 Hour Natilus. I have the sweatshirt to prove it.

***This thong is a bit of lore for those who know me well. Some people have their 15 minutes of fame on camera, I had mine strolling down a South Florida beach topless in my yellow thong bikini. It might be sad to tout this as my own personal Everest, but hey, have you ever worn a thong and looked good? It's liberating.

****"Big Finish" was created by Hubby one day as we were hiking back from a particularly productive day of climbing. At the end of the trail there is a fork and you can choose either the aggressive uphill grade or the mostly flat stroll back to the main road. Hubby declared "Big Finish" which meant that not only were we going to take the aggressive uphill trail, but we were going to do it fast -- as fast as we could -- to end our day triumphantly. And ever since and forever this tactic is known to us as "Big Finish".


  1. I can't believe your cheating on us with Gime!! Us being your favorite bendy Texan yoga instructor Johnny (and me). What's to become of Tuesday evenings? Whom else can I ping to remember to freeze her water? Oh the humanity!

  2. Good lord Fin. I am crying at my desk, I am laughing so hard. And frankly, I thought I knew most of your embarrassing stories. I've never even heard of the yellow thong. Then again, it might not have been embarrassing, to which I tip my hat that much more.

  3. Yeah, so I was a little late to this whole "blogging" thing (think Chris Farley)...I didn't "comment" last year when you "first wrote" this post. But let me just say that a trip into your archives is never disappointing. Ooh, that almost sounds as innuendo-ish as Finny's Melons. Ok, I'll go now. Just wanted to appreciate a great post. Lovely.


[2013 update: You can't comment as an anonymous person anymore. Too many douchebags were leaving bullshit SPAM comments and my inbox was getting flooded, but if you're here to comment in a real way like a real person, go to it.]

Look at you commenting, that's fun.

So, here's the thing with commenting, unless you have an email address associated with your own profile, your comment will still post, but I won't have an email address with which to reply to you personally.

Sucks, right?

Anyway, to remedy this, I usually come back to my posts and post replies in the comment field with you.

But, if you ever want to email me directly to talk about pumpkins or shoes or what it's like to spend a good part of your day Swiffering - shoot me an email to finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom.