So, I’ve posted in the past about boring workouts. Mine consist of pedaling away on the treacherous stationary bike plus light weights, mixed with the occasional power walk (don’t make fun of me). I’ve looked for other things, but until recently hadn’t come up with anything good. A couple months back I was inspired by Karensomethingorother to try a workout DVD, after her series of posts about her love/hate relationship with Jillian Michaels. Yes, yes, I know. You are probably thinking Jane Fonda and leg warmers. I was too. Netflix, however, has a number of streaming workouts. After trying a couple of crappy ones, I found a boot camp workout and a cardio Pilates routine that I really liked. Sure, I probably look like a total dufus. But you know what? It goes by much quicker than pedaling away on that stupid bike, and it’s cheaper than a gym membership.
My husband finds this amusing. And by amusing, I mean he feels the need to make a comment about the DVDs in our instant queue every single time he sees them. My response is, it isn’t Richard Simmons, Mr. Sarcasmo, so don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.
Because let me tell you something, they aren’t easy, which is the point.
I have only been allowed to go on walks since my eye surgery. No impact, nothing that will strain my eyes in any way, shape, or form. So no weights, no Pilates, just boring walks through my neighborhood (which I enjoy a couple times a week, but not every freaking day). Finally, as of two days ago I am free to exercise in any way I choose. So my husband asked what I was going to do for a workout, and I told him I planned to do the Pilates dvd. He began to spastically fling his arms and legs about, sort of like the Elaine Dance. I asked what he was doing, to which he responded,
Instead of laughing, I half got my panties in a knot and told him that was most certainly not Pilates. He said, “No?” and continued with the herky jerky motions.
I’ve watched my man workout. He languidly pedals for 20 minutes while either watching Family Guy reruns or dicking around on his phone, does an arm curl or two, and calls it a day. To be fair, it must work for him because he’s thin and in good shape – homeboy can still drink beer and eat chicken shawarma wraps every day without gaining an ounce. I don’t drink beer, or eat chicken, and I don’t even know what a shawarma is, but I guarantee that if I did, I would bloat up like a marshmallow cow.
Anyway, this morning I decided to do the boot camp video (side note, I actually think I prefer the yelling in that one to the calm and collected instructions from the Pilates lady. All I can think, as I watch her move her legs through the air with the most amazing stomach control ever, is, couldn’t you at least pretend it’s difficult?). I haven’t done the workout in several weeks, and sort of forgot the whole routine, so when we came to the dancey-aerobic-ish portion, I found myself completely out of step and flinging my arms and legs about in a most uncoordinated fashion. Guess who I looked like? Mr. Smarty Pants, that’s who. In fact, I’d say my husband’s imitation was spot on.
My only consolation was that I wasn’t doing the Pilates workout, which to be honest, wasn’t very consoling at all. Dammit.