Freedom from Fitness

I just canceled my YMCA membership. Yes, 2007 is off to a great start. The past 17 days have been riddled with guilt over my failure to attend and today I decided to eliminate the stress factor. No membership, no guilt. I just love a clean slate!

I will miss all the colorful instructors. There was the lopsided Asian woman who frequently subbed with one arm as big as Arnold Schwarzenegger's and the other only half-formed and withered. I learned to love Jackie, the tough Mexican ex-con who taught Total Body who had quads as big as orcas. Nobody fell behind in that class - there were rumors of a shank under her sports bra. Cynthia was the flakey mom who bombastically lead an aerobic drumming class (imagine a bunch of stay-at-home moms with drumsticks and an outlet for their aggression - fantastico!) My favorite was Mary Anne who taught on Fridays. She was constantly worrying about offending us with crude lyrics in her workout mix but her regular song to get us going in the morning was Tom Jones's "Sex-Bomb." She prattled on about American Idol, Justin Timberlake and Hollywood couples for the entire hour and made Kathy Griffin sound like Bob Dole. These are the women who shaped 2006 for me.

But I'm rid of them. I can wake up in the mornings with a calm sense of assurance that even if I wanted to kick my own butt with a rousing workout to pop-rap music, I couldn't. I don't have to worry anymore about squeezing my pregnant self into my old workout clothes and being confused with the spokesperson for Jimmy Dean sausages. I don't have to chastise myself every time I get on the scale that there is something I could be doing about my precipitous weight gain. I'm letting it all go.

Even though it's only Day One, I've discovered a few drawbacks to my decision. As I walked through the kitchen today my hand automatically reached for a box of cholocates. I froze inches from the box realizing that this was no longer acceptable. It's okay to eat chocolates if you aren't exercising but have a membership to a gym. But no membership, no chocolates. With a sigh, I pushed the box to the back of the cabinet and got a glass of water instead. But it's worth it. I'll resign myself for the rest of this pregnancy to just sitting back and getting fat like most pregnant women are supposed to do. My friends are outraged at my waist's feeble circumference and I wouldn't want to disappoint them by looking good on Delivery Day.

YMCA, we had a good thing. You taught me that it's worth it to have a healthy body, keep your weight under control and practice self-discipline. Lesson learned. Now stop sucking money out of my bank account and let me get back to my long neglected self-loathing.