The Clap

Our bodies make noises.  If you pretend yours doesn’t, then you’re just fooling yourself.  Not only do our bodies make noises, but we aren’t the only ones who hear them.

When my knees crack, the snaps can be heard from across the room by the deaf.  When my ankles pop, it sounds like the creaks from an old wooden chair.  I mean, I KNOW that when I move, everyone hears it.  Let’s not forget that I moan and groan when I stand up and sit down, so much so, that the baby I nanny has picked up the habit to moan and groan when he stands up and sits down.

So, it may surprise you that in my twisted sense of reality, I really figured that NO ONE heard… the clap.

It’s no secret that when you lose weight, you don’t just magically lose all of the skin that you spent years stretching out.  Nope, that shit stays with you.  Like a badge of honor, or a fat tax, or something.

Well, as I lose my padding, I gain sag.  Lately, I have noticed that my body has a new noise.  It claps.  Like, when I have my arm up, and I let it down real fast.  MY BODY CLAPS FOR ME.  I actually sent this as a text to my two girlfriends from High School.  I told them that it was super nice of my body to give me a round of applause when I’m up walking around.  Still, I thought I was the only one who could hear it.

I wasn’t.

So, it’s a Thursday, and I’m at the gym.  I’m actually in an absolutely terrible mood.  Like, my normal ‘funny ha-ha I’m going to kill you’ jokes to my trainer, had a much more authentic vibe on this particular day, if you know what I’m saying.  Honestly, I was in no mood to joke.  No mood to play around.  I was angry with the work out.  I was angry with my lack of ability.  I was angry with the Plyo Box (i.e.: Devil Box).

I’m doing step ups, and struggling with them.  I have three sets of ten step ups, per leg.  I’m on my last set of 10 for my last leg, and I raise my arms to catch my balance.  As I step back down to the ground, my arms come down, and…

‘CLAP’.

My trainer starts to laugh a little, and in a quick moment, he stops.  I think he sucked that shit back inside, in fear of actually being slapped across his face. (full disclosure: I wouldn’t ever hit him, no matter how mad I was… I’m really not a violent, mean person.  I just play one, at the gym.)

I am physically dying.  I’m trying to catch my breath. I’m trying to not die.  I’m trying not to laugh, because well… that shit was funny.

At that moment, I remember what I said to my friends.  My body was clapping for me.  I was actually receiving a round of applause from my body, for making it through my work out.  I’ll take it.

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Wun.

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Wait, You’re Stronger Now. Try This.

Well, my faithful readers… do I have a good one for you.

Today was ‘Upper Body Murder’ day at the gym.  Before I even walked into the gym I was sweating.  It wasn’t even that hot out, but YOU try telling my body that!  Anyways, I walk into the gym, which, like usual, is a super wonderful humid warm space.  Why the hell don’t they pump the A.C. in a gym?  I really don’t get it.  Honestly, this part has nothing to do with my story, I just felt like letting you know that I work out in a sauna.  Ok, continue on.

So, my trainer and I enter the dungeon…err, the weight room, and we head to a set up with weights you can pull towards you in all sorts of directions, depending on how you set it up.  On the top of this unit there are handles so, those who are physically able, can do pull ups.  Pull ups are just another one of those things that I have never been able to do, and couldn’t ever see myself doing.

Well, like usual, my trainer thinks or assumes that I am much more fit/athletic/able to do things, only based on the fact that I’m now ‘lighter’.  So, he says, ‘Hold on, let me go get something.  You’re gonna try something’.  He walks back over to me, carrying a Plyo box (When I see these boxes, I cry.  Immediately.) and says, ‘Here, step up on this and grab those handles’.

‘Ummmm what?  Wait a fucking second… do you think I’m going to do a pull up???  You’re insane.  I hate you.  You DO know this will become a blog post, right?!?’  is what I said without filter or giving a shit about who was around me… but I stood up on the box, to appease him.  I grabbed the handles, pulled up, and immediately lost all strength in my arms and just ended up hanging there.  Just fucking hanging, off of a metal structure, in the middle of a weight room, in a hot and humid gym, with people watching me.  I looked at myself in the mirror and felt like I was looking at that poor kid in elementary school who couldn’t get across the monkey bars, and just hung there (that’d be me folks!).  That’s when I got down.

I’m not even quite sure WHAT was going through my trainers head, because he didn’t skip a beat, and he got up onto the Plyo Box.   He grabbed the handle bars, and said, ‘No, you’re supposed to do it like this‘, and proceeded to pull himself up.

Well, no shit, asshole.  I know what it’s supposed to look like.  That’s what I tried to do!

He gets down, and asks me to try again. Apparently for shits and giggles, he wants to see me suffer or fail or cry or fall or whatever.

I get back up, grab the bars (he pointed to new handles for me to hold, as if that would help me lift entire hot mess of a body), and pulled up as far as I could.  Quick image- I was basically just HANGING there.  My arms were ever so slightly bent.  Clearly I can’t do this.  I guess I proved my failure to my trainer, because he told me to get down, so I did the opposite and immediately started to swing my entire body in a circle, around the Plyo Box, while hanging from the bars above.  Cirque Du Soleil style.  Wheeee!!

No joke, he thought I was falling, and he started sweating because he was so scared… or was it the fucking humidity in the gym??

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This is a Plyo Box.  You can call it the Devil Box too, and we can make it a thing.

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Guys, look!!  It’s me!!!