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Heavy Lifting

In an attempt to minimize the trauma (mine and anyone else who may see me) of squeezing into a bikini this vacation I went to the gym last night. And, yes, I actually worked out while I was there. It was lower-body night. I won’t lay out my whole program here, but I can be hardcore when I wanna be.

After I did my cardio, I made my way over to the leg press machine. There was a guy not much bigger than me (and let me say, for a guy, that’s pretty small) loading that thing up with every 45-pound plate he could scrounge up. Each side had about 9 plates, and I guess that wasn’t enough, because he balanced two more on top of the sled. Of course, I’m totally fascinated and stop to watch. This is going to be some good shit either way. So he’s fussing around, making a huge production of this whole thing, making sure everyone is checking out what a bad-ass he is. He finally sits on the machine, positions his legs, and gets himself totally amped up to push this weight.

So….major grunting ensues, he pushes the weight…and it goes up about an inch. He drops it back to the start position and gets off the machine and jumps around like he just accomplished something major. I mean, we’re taking “I broke a World Record” excitement.

And he walks away.

I wait a couple of minutes, thinking he’s off somewhere psyching himself up for the next big push, but he’s on the other side of the gym loading up another machine. He’s done.

I’ll be damned if I’M going to lift all those fucking plates off of there, so I hunt him down, tell him that was pretty impressive, and ask if he’s done. No kidding, this was the conversation:

Me: So you’re done with the leg press machine?

Him: Yup! Wasn’t it awesome?!

Me: Um, yeah. So what about all those plates?

Him: Yeah, dude! It was like 900 pounds! Awesome, hu?

Me: Um, yeah, awesome. Dude. [pause] So who’s going to put all those plates away?

Him: Waddya mean?

Me: Well, YOU loaded all 900 pounds on there, do I look like I want to UNload 900 pounds? I’m only going to use about 75 pounds of them [eds. note: it’s been a while. I’m not as strong as I used to be].

Him: Um….

Me: See, this is LEG day for me. I wasn’t planning to work my UPPER body. I wasn’t planning to lift 900 pounds. So what do you say, will you help me strip the machine so I can do my workout?

I shit you not—he wouldn’t (couldn’t??) do it. Asshat. The two other guys who were standing around watching this whole thing take place helped me take everything off the machine instead.

I was so grateful to those kids who helped me until I started to jump rope between sets and they suddenly felt compelled to stop what they’re doing and watch my boobs bounce.

Maybe I’ve still got it.

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