Gym Scene

Sorry for the two-week hiatus. We were on vacation, and while I'll have pictures to post soon (ah, the old vacation-picture-posting promise), today's post is inspired by the fact that I had to wear a swimsuit on vacation.

I've been trying my best to make it to the gym at least three days a week. You wouldn't really know it by looking at me, because the butt ballast and SBUs I developed during pregnancy to prevent tipping have reduced only slightly to become my very own muffin top, serving no purpose whatsoever. That's right: my fat runneth over.

Perhaps more embarrassing than actually having a muffin top is the fact that I had to go out and by all new workout clothes in order to get rid of it. Showing a little bulge above your jeans is one thing: bulging out below and above tiny gym shorts is another, not to mention the various bulges in a too-tight tank top. No, my pre-pregnancy workout clothes were definitely unacceptable.

I had no idea how hard it is to find large workout clothes. Either everyone else who wears size L already bought out all the clothes at Target in the hopes of someday fitting into size M, or Target is discriminating against the folks that need workout clothes the most. I actually had to go to a specialty nursing bra store to get a sports bra in my size because Target didn't carry anything. I guess they figure if you've got jugs the size of mine, you're not doing much moving around.

I arrived at my new gym more than a little self-conscious of my new body and new duds, which included rather shapeless, drapey shorts and what I would have previously referred to as an old-lady tank top (large shapeless rectangle with cut-off sleeves that gap in the armpit hole around the boob instead of having sexy straps). At my old gym in the hip neighborhood I always felt a bit self-conscious because my clothes were from Target, even if they were size S with sexy straps. People there wore designer clothes made mostly with spandex, and shoes with toes so they could better "feel the chi" in their running or some such nonsense. And there was no making fun of these people, because toe-shoe nonsense or not, they were ripped enough that spandex looked good.

My new gym at the community rec center, however, is perfectly suited to my new lot in life. Instead of toe-shoes and spandex it's New Balance and oversized community event T-shirts. I even saw a pair of Reebok Pumps yesterday. And instead of fit 20-somethings sporting visible tattoos, this gym is full of 60-somethings sporting anything from cut-offs to bow-ties. (Yes, a bow-tie. An old man on the elliptical next to me the other day was wearing a button-down shirt tucked into polyester pants, complete with a bow-tie and Keds. I also saw a very large-chested woman wearing a green string bikini top under an old, white wife-beater. That is a story in itself, since I'm pretty sure she had been a man in another life, and the triangles of that bikini were very undersized for what they were supposed to be covering.)

I'm not saying that all the people in my new gym aren't fit. While on the treadmill I watched a bunch of ladies pushing 70 play a game of basketball that was definitely above my skill level. I know that's not saying much, since the last time I played basketball I dislocated a finger, but they were playing a full-court game at more than twice my age, and one lady even took two diggers in the 20 minutes I was watching. All I'm saying is that while there are a handful of people at the new gym that would look just fine in spandex and sexy straps--and I hope I'm one of them someday--it appears that my muffin top and old lady tank have found a good home.