So – I’ve never really been a “gym rat” (aside: isn’t that a weird name for someone who works out a lot? I blame Millennials). I mean – I’ll run a mile or two occasionally. For fun. I’m not uh – being chased or anything. I’d get caught if I was chased probably. Look – the point is – I’m not in shape, but I’m not horribly out of shape either.
I was talking with a buddy of mine about getting in shape: improving my diet, getting on a regular workout schedule, actually moving from my bed, etc. He agreed to help me get started and give me a few pointers on strength building and weight lifting, neither of which I had done before. But hey – if it’ll help out my luck with the ladies, I’m all for it.
We entered the gym and start things off easy. He handed me some five pound weights and said, “Shrug your shoulders.” I thought, “Alright, I’ve got this.” We then moved to lats. Each exercise was a rep of 12, then 10, 8, and 6, increasing the weight each time. I thought, “Hm. This is getting harder.” We switch to flys. “Yeah…I’m really feeling this now”. Push-ups. “Why am I doing this to myself.” Rows. “I think I’m going to vomit.”
It was at this point where I stood up triumphantly, having gotten through a quarter of his routine. I was on a roll. Nothing could stop me now. I was going to be able to pick up a bunch of heavy things, and then put them back down again, multiple times. My beach body would exist. Then my eyes went fuzzy and I collapsed.
I hit my head on a wall and almost vomited on a very attractive girl (embarrassingly, doing the same exercise with heavier weights) next to me. My friend helped me to the bathroom. Where we stayed until I could stand up. I’ve got a long way to go.
Worst part is – I didn’t even get her number! But then again – I think there are only a few people in this world with enough gravitas to get a girls number while also throwing up on her; Brad Pitt…George Clooney…Weird Al… I’m not in that league…yet. What’s the expression? 10,000 hours right?
-mclean
McLean & Amalie Have Something to Say 