It’s amazing what one trip to Bally’s with Bobby will do to a girl…or maybe not.
Bobby and I went to Bally’s after school on Thursday. The commute crosstown was a pain, but good preliminary cardio, I suppose. I’m trying to look at the protein shake as half full. Or eat meals that leave me half full. Okay, enough attempts at exercise jokes.
It’s no coincidence that the Bally’s we went to requires a descent down a long stairway before reaching the lobby of over-eager Bally’s reps. It brings to mind Dante’s underworld and after an hour of exercise, you’d swear you’ve been sent to the circle of hell reserved for the Gluttons. (If you have to be totally smarmy about it like me, though, you’d think, “Uh uh. What about symbolic retribution, huh? The punishment fits the crime.” In this case, I’ll say it’s like the circle for those evil, lazy people who ride elevators to the second floor).
I had to talk to a few Bally’s employees before my free trial began. I’d like to share that no one I saw working at this gym looked particularly toned. One woman gave me a tour and tried to help me assess my workout goals:
Bally’s Rep: So…do you like working out?
Me: No, not really.
Bally’s Rep: Okay. What brought you to Bally’s?
Me: Coercion by a friend.
Bally’s Rep: Are you trying to lose weight?
Me: No. Just some toning. Minimal toning. I’m a wimp.
Clearly, I couldn’t share my plan to achieve bootyliciousness. This is top secret stuff.
Bobby and I worked on the bikes side by side. I biked over three miles to groovy seventies tunes, but I’ll be honest, I wish I had actually biked somewhere. Especially somewhere that didn’t have patchy rugs and close captioned televisions airing sports shows. I got through twenty minutes of biking to nowhere by mentally correcting all the typos on the closed captioning and listening to Rod Stewart’s “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?”
Answer: Not yet, but ask again after some time on the elliptical machine. I started out strong, but spent the last seventeen minutes of my twenty-minute session taking it easy. Meanwhile, Bobby was working out with the machine on the highest level and burned 4,567,435 calories.
Bobby morphed back into personal trainer mode for the last eternity of my workout, which I’ll call my Pain In The Butt (PITB) session. I worked on some PITB machines and did squats and leg lifts. Bobby counted down and made sure I didn’t hurt myself or give up: “C’mon, it’s your ass! Squat like you mean it!” I saw a difference instantly. My butt is now tighter and hurts when I sit down. Progress!
After the workout, we did what made the most sense to us and headed over to Dylan’s Candy Bar for ice cream. I justified the indulgence with all the blocks we had to walk from the gym to the candy store to the subway. Similarly, Bobby and I got lost en route to another Bally’s location today, thus leading to lots of exercise from walking, thus justifying a trip to Ray’s Pizza.
Mmm, working out is great.
I am sorry my foot was still hurting from yesterday…I promise to make you workout tomorrow.. and I promise, on my honor, NO MORE RAY’S PIZZA … EVER!! Oh my tummy…