Tuesday, November 13, 2007

I'd Rather Have a Root Canal:UPDATED

Today should be lots of fun.

Thankfully, my day will begin with the Bible Study group I love. We will not only be discussing some great stuff...we are having lunch together afterwards. I am truly looking forward to a wonderful time.

Pretty much, it goes downhill from there.

I have recently joined a new gym. I'm not really excited about it. It is one of those things that I needed to do or I would lose anything I'd gained over the last eighteen months of working my tail off. (Unfortunately, I have not actually worked my tail off. Thus, the new gym.)

In order to begin working out at this new gym, I am forced...and I do mean forced...to have a "consultaion". Let me share what this "consultation" is all about.

..."Your consultation includes one BodPod assessment, one Visual Fitness Planner assessment and personal training."

Ok. The BodPod. Apparently, this contraption is a big egg-like thing that you sit in and it measures your body fat accurately. By all means, let's be accurate. The instructions for this device are:

"Do not workout for 2 hours prior"--certainly no argument there.

"Bring swim suit or tightest fitting clothes possible (spandex shorts, sports bra, underclothes, etc)"--WHATEVER. There is no Pod (or anywhere else) for which this Bod would exist in spandex and a sports bra. Not happening. No way, no how. Underclothes? Forget it.

I will have no problem wearing regular shorts and a t-shirt. What...is it going to add percentage to my fat? Gee, that is going to make the difference. I am quite certain--weighty fabric or not--I am not in the preferred range.

Now, the Visual Fitness Planner assessment. Funny, this has no description. I'm guessing someone with a really great set of abs is going to stare at my not-so-great set of, well, anything, and plan for me. The stare down. That shouldn't be intimidating, really. It should be fine. Completely comfortable.

The personal training? We'll see. I'm kind of at the "hit me with your best shot" phase. I dare them to try and make me lose a pound. They have no idea of the slow metabolism (and serious snack addiction) with which they deal.

Am I setting my self up for failure, or what? I mean, the week before Thanksgiving? The week after the week after Halloween? Christmas in sight?

My sweet Bible study group has no idea what they are in for today. I need a serious attitude adjustment. Fortunately, I think they can handle it.

UPDATE: Worse than expected. I caved. Underclothes and a swim cap. I'll leave it at that.

4 comments:

Queen Mother said...

Maybe this will give me the encouragement I need to go ACROSS THE STREET to join an exercise class. How hard can that be?
At least they don't have a bod-o-meter thing to measure how much of the thing I want to lose most. At least...I don't think they do. Get back to you on that. I'll pray for your exercising if you will pray for mine!!! Ladies stick together!!!!

momof2 said...

I haven't had the pleasure of the Bod Pod. But I have had the pleasure of holding one of those steering wheel looking devices while it measures my body fat and then watching the facial expression of the evaluator when they tell me I am made up of almost 100% fat (apparently, even my bones are made up of fat.)But ofcourse, those hand held devices aren't ACCURATE so I took it upon myself to subtract about 80% of the total which gave me an astonishling BELOW AVERAGE body fat percentage, which is ofcourse WAY more accurate (in my mind.)

Anonymous said...

HA HA HA HA! Crying again after reading the update!!! I think I could endure the BodPod better than the visual assessment. For crying out loud, I feel like I get those every day when I walk into the bank or store or school...

Just Call Me Grammy said...

Hysterical-- My dear husband and I joined the local fitness center recently and he signed us up for our assessment etc. TOGETHER. It was humiliation at its finest. He thought I was going to pass out on the heart rate test--he said my breathing(gasping) could be heard all over the room.