Cha Cha Slide

Scene: Lower Body Murder Day at the gym.
Characters:
Me- Kicking, screaming, swearing, crying, complaining, and sweating like I’ve never sweat before.
Franz- Barking orders, rolling his eyes, visibly annoyed, laughing at me.

The whole time I was working out (and complaining), Franz was barking his orders.  “Left leg, come on!”  “Ok, right leg this time”.  It didn’t occur to me until I was doing my very last work out of the session, laying on the birthin’-baby-maker (leg press machine), and Franz has me using one foot at a time to push up the weight.  Ten reps, then I switch to the other leg.  Each time I switch legs, Franz barks his order. That’s when it hits me.  I realize that he sounds like he’s actually reciting the lyrics to the Cha-Cha-Slide.  I start laughing so hard, tell him, and from then on, everything he says just sounds like he’s about to break out in dance.  Pretty sure he finished off with “Cha Cha, real smooth…’. Always nice to have something to make us laugh through the pain, right?

I swear to God that when I go to the gym I have NO intention of complaining.  In fact, I try really hard to be positive, and tell myself that I can do it, and I know why I’m doing it, and taht I absolutely positively won’t complain, this time…. and then I do.  I really do appreciate Franz and his ability to just deal with my nonsense.  I wouldn’t do what I do, or be as strong and capable as I am, if it weren’t for him.

However, when I am there, I hate life.  I hate Franz.  I hate having to do what I’m doing.  I hate the pain.  I hate the sweat in my eyeballs.  I hate it all… but I ALWAYS come back for more.

I guess if every day could feel as fun as doing the Cha-Cha-Slide, then I would be alright.

For your viewing pleasure…. Cha Cha Slide

 

Cha-Cha and wun.

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RGF 2

RGF.  Resting Gym Face.  I have written about it before, and I am going to say it again.  I have a serious Resting Gym Face.  The other day at the gym, Franz told the other trainers, ALL about my RGF.  His actual words were, ‘I don’t even know what her normal face looks like, because she always has some dumb look going on’.  #helovesme

In reality, I have Resting Bitch Face, in general.  Recently that was proven to me over and over (and over and over), while I was on vacation visiting friends in Arizona.  I was there for a good friends wedding, and spent a lot of time with her, and some of the other girls in the wedding party.

It all started the night I got there, when we went out to dinner.  I had been up since 5:30 am Boston time, and it was 7 pm in Scottsdale.  If you’re slow on math, that means that it was 10 pm back in Boston.  I was tired.  I was hungry.  Apparently, I had RBF.  The bride snapped a lovely photo of me, laughed her ass off, showed everyone, everyone laughed THEIR asses off, and then it began.  Their mission to take as many pictures of my RBF as possible.

At the end of my 5 day trip, an album was shared to my phone with 35 pictures (btw: this was only from ONE persons camera), exclusively of my faces.  It was really really difficult, but I narrowed the images down to the top 6, including the one that started it all.

Let’s start from the top and work our way right…

  1. RBF at dinner the first night that I was there.  The image that started it all…
  2. RBF face in Sedona when I caught the bride taking a photo of me during lunch.  This was actually a series of about 6 images.
  3. Dumb face during the cocktail hour of the wedding with one of the best bridemaids around.
  4. Your Fat Girl Wunning making her best face while waiting in line for Ice Cream for 10 minutes, and then I didn’t even buy any.
  5. Back to the first night, where the restaurant made a mistake of having a wooden cut out, and I took full advantage.
  6. Finally, while walking in Sedona, I stopped to say hello to a mannequin on a bench.  We had a thrilling and hilarious conversation.

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So this may not have been totally about the gym, but I sure do hope that I could make you laugh on this lovely day.

I’d like to thank the contributors to this lovely entry.  The bride herself, Steph, and her lovely husband Josh, and two of the best bridesmaids I’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing matching dresses with, Jen and Cassandra.

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Also, just because I can’t be the only one having all of the fun here, I decided to add my favorite gem of the bride, who also made some incredible faces, during our time together.

I love you Stephie, xoxo! -‘popcorn’.

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Shock

So, I was going through my phone, deleting albums and pictures from many years ago.  I’m not quite sure how one can have 17,600 photos on their phone, but I do.  Anyways, as I was going through pictures I came across one that I took of myself during one of my MANY attempts at starting a weight loss journey.  When I saw the picture there were so many emotions.  First of all, I felt sad.  I couldn’t even believe that at one point I looked like that.  Why did no one ever say anything to me?  No one has a problem telling me I’m too skinny, now… so why not tell me how unhealthy I was, before??

Besides being sad, I was in shock.  My shock came from the realization that even being the person who lived in that body, even I didn’t know how bad it was.  Isn’t it amazing how easily we put blinders on things we don’t want to see?  I mean, I truly do not remember myself like this.  It’s funny to me, because last year, I went through some old medical paperwork, and came across a visit summary from my doctor, and written on it was my weight.  The number was one that I absolutely do NOT remember weighing.  It was higher than I ever remembered.  It was a shock to my system… just like seeing this photo.  If I think about it, the doctor visit, and the picture were probably around the same time in my life.

I haven’t gotten to the part where I am happy with how far I’ve come.  Probably because I haven’t allowed myself to believe I was that bad, before this journey.

So, thanks to date stamps for pictures, I know that the picture was taken in February of 2011.  I was 27… about 6 days from my 28th birthday.  If I think back on that time in my life, I remember that I was super unhealthy, but I still tried.  I drank a lot, my work schedule was all over the place, I stayed out late and had a terrible sleeping schedule.  I was basically a hot ass mess.  The picture basically proves that.

To help myself see how far I’ve come, I found an image from April of 2018, and made a comparison shot.  I also like to think about everything that has changed.  My work schedule is in MY control now, not in the control of a retail company.  I gave up those sugary margaritas and shitty hangovers from staying out drinking.  My sleeping isn’t any better, but it has nothing to do with my partying.  For the most part, things are different… and that’s why I am different.

So, without further ado, and with much shame and embarrassment, I share this side by side picture.  I’m sharing because I know that someone out there needs to see it.  Someone will look at this and say, ‘If she can do it, so can I’.  That’s all that matters to me.

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#seriouspostshappen

wun.

Can’t Make This Up

If you follow along with Fat Girl Wunning, you know that some how, some way, I can make any work out session into a complete shit show.  Between hitting Franz in the crotch, almost falling off of a treadmill, swearing with no care in the world, or almost kicking Franz in the face, there is always something utterly ridiculous that happens.

This week was no different.

Get your imagination pants on and picture this…  It’s Upper Body Murder day, and I am still in the first half of my work out.  Franz tells me to get down in a plank position, with my legs wide apart. This will help me keep my balance because while I’m planking, I will also be doing rows with a 30lb weight.  This is a new exercise for me, so I was focusing a lot on how I was keeping myself up, how many muscles hurt, and oh, lift that weight the right way so you don’t have to hear Franz yell at you.  That’s when it happened.  I hit myself directly in the boob with the weight.  Straight shot.  Thirty pounds.

I sat up, clutching my flapjack, and looked up at Franz who was laughing at me.  It hurt.  I made that known.  Franz just continued to laugh.  I got back in the plank position, to finish my sets.  I continue with the other arm, and then switch back.  Three reps in, I smack the flapjack again.  This time, some how, I managed to keep it quiet.  No need to egg Franz on, and give him something to make fun of.  But dammit… weights to the boobs hurt!

Next up on the WTF Happened At The Gym Today list is when my shirt strap broke.  Same day as my Flapjack incident, my brand new gym shirt decided to steal the show.  All of a sudden, the adjustable strap was loose.  I go to tighten it, and it completely opens up.  The itty bitty plastic piece that holds the straps in place, had broken.  Super convenient timing.  Lucky for me, the broken strap just made me look stupid in a shirt with one strap hanging off, and it didn’t effect the whole ‘coverage’ aspect.  You bet your ass I drove right to the store I bought it from, and returned it that night.  (I also bought two more… maybe that ONE was defective?? 😉 )

Oh you thought we were done?  We’re not.  The very next training night was Lower Body Murder day, and holy moly Franz had it out for me.  As I sit here now, writing about it two days later, my legs are STILL throbbing.  Anyways, I did the entire work out, and my legs are like jelly, and in true Franz style, he has me do the hardest thing last.  You know, like when he’d have me push his ass on the sled, down the green…  On this day, Franz puts me on the leg press machine (or what I call the Birthing Baby Maker).  He adds 250 pounds of weight and tells me to do four sets of 25 reps.   TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY POUNDS.  I’m pretty sure my life flashed before my eyes on multiple occasions.  I was dying.  Complaining and swearing the whole time.  Wanting to fast forward time to when I was done, and I could roll off the machine and lay on the floor… to die.  On my last set, I think I got to number 16, and I pushed my legs up, and locked them in place.  I couldn’t do it any more.  Franz was tired of saying, ‘one more’, ‘let’s go’, ‘don’t stop’, etc. Instead, he said, ‘Remember that time I poured water over you when you were on the floor?’  I started laughing… then it hit me.  Franz stood there with his water in his hand and said, ‘KEEP GOING’.  I unlocked my legs, did three more reps, and stopped to cry again.  That’s when the nice luke warm stream of water came down on my face, soaking my chest, and running down my back against the seat of the disgusting machine.  Water splattered all over the floor, and the only thing I could do was laugh.  I was holding the weight up with my sore feet, and wobbly legs, and laughing so hard while trying to wipe the mix of sweat and water out of my eyes.

Then I hear it.  ‘FINISH, ALLY!’  Ok, ok… I struggle to get going, but I push out the last few reps, lock up the machine, and roll out of it like an old lady.  I was finally done.  Done, but I couldn’t walk.

Listen, if I can do it, YOU can do it.

Wun.

The People At The Gym

Every time I start at a new gym, I kind of assess the people who are members.  It has nothing to do with their ability, weight, age, etc.  It mainly has to do with if they can handle me, and my mouth, being in their space, while I work out.  I’d be lying if I said that I thought I was a pleasure to work out around.  I know I’m not.  I swear, make a scene, complain, huff..puff… I’m a mess.  So, I assess the people around me.

This new gym has kind of a strange clientele, when I’m there.  Mostly older people, on the cardio machines, and a few people, usually a little younger, on the weights.  Oh, and there seems to be some sort of child gym training session going on at the same time I am there…which seems wildly inconvenient since I have the mouth of a trucker.

While getting to know the gym, and assessing the people, Franz tries to keep me on my best behavior.  It really isn’t something he can control….but he attempts to do it anyways.  During his latest attempt to control me, I met another staff member, when he was walking by us, and decided to stop for some comedic relief.  I don’t know his name, so we will call him Bob.  Everyone knows a Bob, right?

Bob has heard me tell Franz to shut up, and heard me complain, and heard me whine, and watched me lift, and watched me struggle.  Yesterday, Bob walked up to Franz to make a little ‘ha-ha’ about me, and Franz took it upon himself to tell a story.  A story about how he thinks that I look like the Hulk.  Not the Hulk when he is fully muscular, green, and scary big.  More like the Bruce Banner turning into the Hulk part of his identity, where he is basically moaning and groaning and making insanely ugly faces.   Bob agrees with Franz, that yes, I sound like the Hulk, and then turns to me and says that I’m much too pretty to be the Hulk, and instead, I must be Wonder Woman.  Well, how P.C. of you, Bob.  Oh, and thanks Franz.  If I didn’t think I was ugly when working out before, I know I am now.

Besides Bob, I seem to entertain many other people who are on the cardio machines, while I am lifting weights.  From begging for my life when struggling to lift over my head as my arms shake, to telling Franz that I dream about killing him, I’m sure they have no idea what to think about us.  Yesterday, I was switching between doing ten pull-ups, and then down to a bar, that was about 6″ from the ground, where I would do push-ups, and back again.  I was on my last set of pull-ups, and I was struggling.  I did the whole ‘kick your foot up as if that will help you lift yourself’ move, and I almost kicked Franz in the face.  Right on queue, we both start dying laughing at each other, and can’t really catch our breath.  Somehow, I finish the pull-ups, and turn around to head down to the bar.  As I hop down, an older woman gets off the treadmill, and walks past Franz.  As she passed, she says ‘Oh!  Is she your girlfriend?’

Nervous laughter, ‘No, I’m her trainer…’, Franz responds.

Then he looks at me with the death stare.

‘People think I am your WEAK boyfriend, because of how you talk to me!’, he says.  I start laughing, because she didn’t say anything to me…. It wasn’t like she said, Oh, be nice to your boyfriend.  No, she was making sure that I wasn’t hurting his feelings.  This much taller, bigger, and stronger man.  THAT’S whose feelings she was worried about!!  Amazing.

Ladies and Gentlemen… I have done my job.

 

Oh, besides making a scene when lifting, or when accidentally punching Franz in the baby maker, or crying for help when I feel like I’m truly dying… I also had the entire gym looking at me when I screamed because I almost fell off the treadmill.

And on that note, we’re done here.

 

#wun

Man-Bun-Child (a follow up to Dad-Bod-Child)

Oh hey there!!  Let me start out by saying that this entry was initially going to be a slightly boring one about how Franz and I moved to (yet another) new gym.  The one we were training in closed, and a gym about 15 minutes away absorbed my sweet Franz, and much of the old gyms equipment.  I’m oh so excited to be reunited with all of the torture devices, in a new location.  So, to be super basic about this, me following Franz from gym to gym is like a puppy following it’s owner, or a horse following a carrot.  Something like that.  I just want to follow Franz wherever he may go…. enjoy the song that plays in my head when I think of this.

 

Ok, so let’s dive in.  It’s the first day at this new gym.  I’m late, because it’s a whole new commute to a new place.  Let’s not get into the part about how there were SEVERAL drivers going FAR BELOW the speed limits on the road…. clearly testing my road rage (Massachusetts, you’re going soft).

Being late, Franz is set off, and pretends to be annoyed with me.  The fact is, he is all giddy that we are in a new place, and he can torture me in front of new people.

Quick side note:  This ‘new’ place is so outdated in design and decoration, that it reminded me of my childhood days on vacation in the Borscht Belt with my family, at a stellar resort called Kutsher’s.  Think: Dirty Dancing, and never update it.  Ever.

Anyways, were working out, and I am silently reminiscing about all of the making fun of me, that Franz has done, during our time at the last gym.  Those poor young boys had no idea that we had been joking and laughing, and talking about how I could be their mom… ahh… I’ll miss you Dad-Bod-Child.

As I am doing an insanely difficult arm exercise, I look around and see a young trainer, with a beard and a man bun.  Bait.  I turn to Franz and say, ‘So, who’s Man Bun?’

‘Whoa!! Look at you!  He’s even younger than ‘Man-Bod-Child’!’ he says.

Then, without even taking another breath, Franz turns to Man-Bun-Child, and says, ‘HEY!! My client is checking you out!!  But uhh… she could be your mom, so….’

And there it is.  He’s lucky I don’t get embarrassed about things like that.  Mostly, I just like to make a scene as if he’s embarrassing me, to embarrass him.  Most of the time, I think I win.

Man-Bun-Child turns to me, and says, ‘Yeah I just look older because, well… this and this’, while motioning to his facial hair and bun.  Then, follows it up with, ‘Don’t get distracted!!’

Ouch. Don’t worry Man-Bun-Child.  I’m good.  Just know, you’ll be a pivotal part of our jokes and laughing, when I’m at the gym.

P.S.  I’d like all of my close friends and family to know that Mike named this entry.

P.P.S.  Today I hurt Franz, by accidentally hitting him where it counts, and I’d like to publicly apologize.  I was swinging my arm in self defense of him about to smack me on the back (probably for being an asshole), and I got him good.  My sincerest apologies… Your MMA Approved Cup is on it’s way via Amazon Prime.  Also, I will take into consideration my brute strength, and be more gentle when I am on the defense, next time.

 

He’s Everywhere

Franz is quite literally, EVERYWHERE for me.  When I’m snuggled up on my couch, I can hear him in my head telling me not to be lazy.  When I’m struggling to bend over to put socks on, because my back is having a bad day, I can hear him in my head to stop acting like an ‘old lady’.

At the boxing gym, I call the punching bag by his pseudo name.  He comes up in almost every conversation I have with people.

The other day, I was browsing my phone, while being ‘lazy’ on the couch, and I got a Snapchat message from my sister-in-law.  I open it, and I start laughing so hard.  Franz is fucking everywhere.

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If Franz knew that he was on so many people’s minds, I wonder if he’d still train me….

P.S. I may or may not have found a picture of Franz online, which he is very proud (and very wrong) to say that is IMPOSSIBLE.  Oh Franz, how you doubt me…