Two Awkward Happenstances

11:03 - This past week I happened to have two things that really stood out to me because of their awkwardness.


Awkward experience number one: I woke up to wet pants.

Before you jump to any conclusions, the story isn't what you think it is--I still have control of my bowels, even though I am getting close to being thirty. Wifey went swimming with our little girl while I was helping a complete stranger move into a duplex near us. He had called up someone in our church, who in turn called and asked if I could help out. Being the sucker that I am, I offered up my (meager) muscles to the move.

After I got home from the move and Wifey returned from swimming with the little tyke, we did our nightly rituals--I climb into the bathtub to read and relax while Wifey reads in bed. I peeled off my clothes and placed them sloppily next to the dirty clothes hamper, knowing that I was going to wear them the next day. Wifey pulled off her swimming suit, also placing it sloppily next to the dirty clothes hamper, yet fortuitously on top of my pants.

One damp swim suit + one pair of denim jeans + eight hours = two damp articles of clothing.

Needless to say, when I woke up in the morning to slip my jeans on, the right front side of the jeans was uncomfortably damp. Waking up just late enough to have to hurry out the door, I didn't have time to throw them in the dryer for a few minutes while getting ready; of course, I also didn't think about it, being in my morning stupor.

I can gratefully report that the wetness did not change the color of the jeans so much that they looked funny. After my 10:00 meeting, I hardly noticed my damp hip and pockets, and by lunch at 11:30, the jeans were completely dry. Crisis (and incontinence) averted.

Awkward experience number two: I get asked my fitness goals

Wifey hurt her back a couple of weeks ago. When I say she hurt her back, I really mean that she did nothing, but her back decided to spasm and wrack her with enough pain that we had to call the ambulance to take her to the emergency room to get drugs to relax her because nothing else was working. She told me that she would rather go through child birth again than have that pain, because there was an end to child birth.

After the paramedics pumped her full of morphine and Valium, she relaxed enough for them to get her off the bed and down the stairs. The doctor in the ER just told her that she needed to rest a bit (even though she had been flat on her back for the previous three days, and taking it REALLY easy for the week prior), gave her some more meds, and sent us out the door.

Our family doctor recommended that Wifey do some exercises to strengthen her back. Wifey has been wanting to join a gym for a while now, so this just gave her some additional motivation. After forgetting about it for a bit, Wifey made the call tonight, and some young buck named Keegan or Kellen or something that started with a K asked us to come down and take a peek at the gym (to try to get you hooked, of course).

Aside: Before tonight, I have never stepped foot inside a gym. I feel it important to mention, as I did earlier, that my muscles are meager. I have always been lean, and never had the desire to bulk up or become stronger. I take that back--I wouldn't mind having some upper body strength so I could perform hand-to-hand circus acts, but that would require years of strength training and flexibility--I just don't have the chutzpah to put forth the effort. I was raised on a farm moving sprinkler lines, so although I am slender, I feel I have enough strength to get me by.

We got the grand tour. We dropped off the munchkin in the daycare place for a few minutes at the suggestion of Kurt, because the first rule of the gym is that you can't have your children who still can't walk with you while you are working out. Who knew?

 Kristoph first showed us the racquetball courts (4), followed by the group workout room where they were doing Zumba, and then on to the pool. K-Diddy informed me that the lockers were just day lockers, so I would have to bring my own lock as we slipped through the dressing rooms to the pool.

Mental note: I need to tell that to Wifey, as she was going through the women's locker room at the time.

The pool was set to a balmy 84 degrees (to my slender build, 84 equals cold), and family swim times are Fridays, Saturdays, and Sunday evenings. We moved back through the locker rooms as Kip regaled me with more amenities to try to earn his commission. Next we headed upstairs. I was a bit curious to find out what was upstairs. That desire was quickly quelled.

On our way up the steps, a very sweaty man in a yellow and brown stained tank top walked by me with his beer belly hanging out. He walked down the middle of the wide staircase, forcing the three of us to scoot over to the side lest we be slimed. I didn't really see his face, but I know that his stringy hair hung down to his shoulders. I had a fleeting thought of a bunch of people with names like Cletus and Zeke in just bib overalls (no shirts) throwing a medicine ball back and forth. Reason returned to my thoughts as I made the turn on the stairs and arrived at the top.

The upstairs was much less exciting than my mind made it to be. There were lines of treadmills and elipticals facing big screen TVs that were hanging from the ceiling. A room full of spinning bikes was off to one side, while the weight machines were over on the other. A few middle-aged people ran on treadmills, and one older gentleman looked at me quizzically in my polo shirt. I politely ignored the stares and turned another corner.

This was the room I had been waiting for--the free weight room. Here was where Hans and Franz would hang out. Of course there were mirrors so people could admire their bulging muscles as they lifted (or watch for proper form), and Krank told me about how there were these new, great equipment sets that didn't require you to have a partner because you could just flip your wrist and get the apparatus to catch the weight so you could get out from under it before you were crushed to death.

I found I felt quite uncomfortable in this room. There were a few bodybuilding types openly staring at my wife and I as we walked in, and I could see them thinking, "What is that scronny kid doing here? We are here to pump iron, not wear polos." I kept my face devoid of expression, and politely listened as Kirk started telling us about the great trainers they had on staff.

We followed our illustrious tour guide back down into a little office near the front door. Kevin gave us the sales pitch, hoping that we would take the bait. He didn't know that the purpose of this visit to get one--yes, ONE--gym pass. He asked Wifey about her fitness goals to try to figure out the best plan for her. She told him that she wanted to strengthen her back and possibly lose some weight, explaining that the doctor suggested that she strengthen her back to help avoid this issue in the future. She even went as far as to say that she wanted to make sure her back didn't go crazy on her any more.

After this brief exchange, Kyle quickly asked, "So what was the main reason for your visit today?" Is this kid really so focused that he didn't hear the last sentence she just said? Wifey politely answers, and then finished the rest of the questions.

Kameron turns to me, and says, "Now, what are your fitness goals?" Having previously prepared myself to respond to this question, I gave my most succinct and to-the-point answer: "I don't have any."

Kit blinked. Then he asked the question again, without even rephrasing. "What are your fitness goals?"

I guess Klinton wasn't used to having someone who didn't want to be part of a gym come in and chat with him about gym membership. Wifey came to my rescue, supporting my claims that I really didn't care for visiting the gym and that I was relatively healthy.

That is why I love her.

With that long story now out of the way, I have an announcement to make--I have applied for a position at bodybuilding.com as an editor. Wish me luck.