Why I Belong to a Gym

So, I have a membership at a local gym here in town. It's close, it's inexpensive, it's month-to-month (no lifelong contract), it's open 24 hours, and it has free satellite. I pretty much love it.

All the same, I have been trying to think of ways to cut costs this year, and I was considering letting my gym membership go. We already don't have cable (hence the big PLUS of free satellite at the gym. HGTV, What Not to Wear, infinite syndication of old House episodes, you get my point.) So I thought the gym memberships might be something we could sacrifice. I changed my mind.

I usually go to the gym at night after the kids go to bed. The morning would be better, but it would require, well, getting up early. It's a nice thought, but it will never happen. Anyway, last Friday night it was getting to be about that time when I usually head for the gym. The kids were still up, though, I had a load in the laundry, and it was cold and yucky outside. I have plenty of fitness videos and DVDs so I decided to just pop one of those in instead of going to the gym. The girls, instead of heading to their bedrooms, decided to stay up and watch mommy exercise.

I won't go into details, but I will give you just a sampling of their comments:

"Zariah. (giggle, giggle) Look at Mommy's butt. Look. Mommy's funny."

"Mom. What is that thing hanging out of her shirt?" "A microphone?" "Huh, well that's a BAD place for a microphone, I think. It looks like a worm crawling out of her boobs."

"Um, so Mom, when was this video made?" "It must have been before they had exercise bras."

And so on. They also stole my exercise mat and made it into a doll bed, tried to do the exercises along with me, and laughed at me the entire time. On the plus side, they got me ice water and turned on the ceiling fan for me even though they were cold.

I don't think I'll be doing my belly dancing workout DVD anytime soon. Suffice it to say, I think I'm keeping my gym membership for now.

Diving In ...

I can't think of a better way to begin a blog then by admitting a huge personality defect. So here goes. I hate not being good at things. No, really. I know that no one particularly ENJOYS not being good at things, but I am actually a quitter. It's true. A big fat quitter. If I start something that I don't feel like I'm any good at, usually, I'll just quit. No perservering, no learning curve, just plain old quitting. That's how much I hate it when I suck at things. It's why I don't scrapbook, it's why I don't play the flute, it's why I rarely bake and never ever make my own pie crust. That being said, I will quickly segue into how I don't know how to blog. I don't know how to comment on someone else's blog. I don't know how to set-up a blog page so that it is not entirely lame. So .... it is quite possible that blogging is just not for me. I am going to give it the old college try, though. I am not good at keeping a journal, but maybe by blogging I can capture some fun, memorable, or trivial - but amusing parts of my life and the life of my family. So here goes, I'm diving in. Wish me luck!