No, you perverts, I’m not talking about this sort of thing [DO NOT OPEN THIS LINK AT WORK UNLESS YOU WANNA GET FIRED ON THE SPOT].

I mean it figuratively, of course. The reason why I decided to break my work-imposed vow of blog silence is that yesterday I enrolled myself in an aerobic kickboxing class, and today was my first day.

Holy Jesus fucking Christ in a titty bar, you have no fucking idea how out of shape you really are until you take a class like this. Within minutes of starting the class I was sweating bullets, my heart was about to jump out of my chest like an Alien, and I could barely lift my legs to kick or raise my knees. I was a mess. Several times the assistant dude had to stop me and take me aside and teach me how to breathe right and hydrate myself, and in the end the poor guy felt bad about me and bought me an energy drink. I must admit I’ve always been scared of them since I always thought they would cause weird palpitations or would make me act all hyper and squirrel-like, but apparently that tall black can of elf piss (that’s exactly what it tasted like, and no, I wont answer your obvious "have you ever tasted elf piss" question) did its thing and saved me from fainting and completely burning out. I managed to make it to the end of the class, and the trainer even said "welcome to the class, newbie" after we were done. He said I did a good job, but I imagine that in my condition -which is, no condition at all- I managed to do rather well. Meaning: I didn’t pass out.

The trainer looks much younger than me, I’d give him 22-25 years, and he seems to know his shit, since I was told he trained one of Puerto Rico’s martial arts teams. The guy is relentless. "Holy fucking shit what have I gotten myself into" was the only thought that went through my head this morning.

Those few moments of severe exhaustion had to to with my blood sugar, which has been fluctuating in mysterious ways lately. My diet has been kind of erratic, and according to a recent glucose test, I may have to modify it to include more snacks between meals. According to that awful 5 hour sugar test (1 needle per hour yaaay! ), the first 3 hours were perfectly fine, but then at the 4th hour it dropped from the hundreds to the 80’s, and at the fifth hour it lowered to 73%. Bear in mind that 70% is the danger zone. So yeah, I gotta be careful with that shit. Luckily the assistant trainer noticed the simptoms and took me aside a few times to catch my breath. If it weren’t for him I’d still be lying down on the floor.

Enrollment was pretty expensive so I doubt I’ll abandon those classes anytime soon. Besides, I desperately need to get in shape, especially after seeing myself going in a downward spiral of fat-assery that seems to be getting worse by the month. Right now I’m at 203 lbs., compared to the 150 lbs. I had back in 2005. 50 pounds in 2 years of full time employment is a hell of a fucking lot of weight gained. Since I’ve always been skinny it doesn’t look that bad, but this gut that’s threatening to turn me into a young Homer Simpson cannot be allowed to exist any longer. Even if I have to chug down a six pack or Red Bull before every class.

The new bubblebutt and beefy legs, however, may stay for as long as they please.

I know it’s gonna be incredibly hard to get used to this every other morning, but goddamnit, all my life I’ve never been committed to any sort of exercise routine at all. Even when I took swimming classes I didn’t take them seriously and went to them whenever I felt like it. This is different. I am out of shape, I don’t have any stamina, and I gave half a paycheck to this place, so I might as well just bite the fucking bullet and hopefully end up looking like this in a few months. I even allowed them to deduct the monthly fee directly from my account as a failsafe device in case I get lazy. Now I will be obligated to assist even when I don’t want to. I’m done with the bullshit. And the fucking gut. This is war.

Wish me luck, no, fuck that, wish me energy, ’cause  that’s the only thing I need to survive this. Oh and in a few months don’t fuck with me ’cause I’ma get mah kung fu on and kick yo’ shit till you be beggin’ fo’ mercy.

Posted in Frivolities, Reveries |

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