It's 5:30 in the morning, and some asshole is on the beach in the dark.

Oh, wait. That's me.

I'm wearing my swimsuit under three layers of clothing. I'm hugging my towel, and praying that Tyrese doesn't show up.
As if, huh?
The only other people on the beach are a handful of old men who are sweeping the sand with metal detectors. Just as I'm about to give up and run back to my car, I see a figure running along the shore at full speed. From far away, I actually think it might be a horse and rider, only because of the speed. No human could possible move that fast, that early in the morning.
Of course, it's him.
As he gets closer to me, and easier to see, I notice that he is wearing some crazy jet pack looking contraption on his back. Tubing is connected from the pack to his mouth via a mouthpiece. He gets close, spits out the mouthpiece, and says "you're late". (when will he cease to be surprised at this?) I just look at him and say, "Does NASA know that you stole that jetpack?"
He slips the contraption off his back, and lays it on my towel. (which he literally ripped from my death grip) "it restricts the amount of oxygen you get, making your lungs stronger".
Wait.
"You put this thing on while you run on the sand at full speed, and it keeps you from breathing??!!"
Oh, hell no. I literally gulp air, thinking it was my last breath.
"Don't worry. You're not ready for that yet."
Le sigh.
"Warm up for 5 minutes, and then get in the water" he says as he walks away from me.
I look around the shore. It's still dark, and a little breezy. The water is dark, foamy and looks cold.
Too cold, I decide. I'm not an idiot though, and I start jogging in place and also include some half-assed jumping jacks. (there is no way that I am just going to stand there, waiting for Tyrese to tell me what to do.) I'm already huffing and puffing by the time he gets back. I start to complain about the cold hurting my shoulder, when he drops a large gym bag at my feet.
"Is there a midget in there? Will he swim for me?"
Tyrese ignores me and opens up the bag. He pulls out a large black neoprene wetsuit.
ACK!
Now, when I say large, I mean LARGE. I pick it up, and it's heavy. It has footsies, gloves and a turtleneck.
"put it on".
What? Where? Why? (I might as well throw in "How?" as well.)
He just looks at me with his stink eye. I start to walk to my car, but he stops me, and shakes his head slowly.
Great. I look around, and the old men are still hunting for their sand treasures, and now some fishermen have arrived too.
I sit down on the sand, and put my foot into the suit. (BTW, note that one should never ever sit on the sand and attempt to put on a wetsuit. Why? Because the neoprene attracts sand. I have sand everywhere. As I roll it on, it's exfoliating my entire body. Even my sensitive lady parts. OUCH!)
Have you ever tried to get a cat in a bathtub? Or feed a toddler ear medicine? Or wrestle an alligator? That's what I looked like. It was like a full body girdle.
I got most of it in place. (ever put on nylons, and the crotch is down by your shins? Yeah, that.)
It exaggerated every bump and lump that I had. (Side note-it made my boobies look AMAZING. Except, you know, black and made out of rubber.) The footsies are annoying, as they are split toe with the split being between Pointer and Tall man, unlike the natural split of sandals.)
I'm seriously out of breath by now. I think getting into this is more work than actually swimming.
He hands me a black skull cap.
I refuse, telling him that he's trying to make me look like a giant black dildo.
He lets me go without the cap.
He rips off his tracksuit, and dives into the water, wearing the smallest trunks I have ever seen, without being a banana hammock.

I walk to the shore line (the sand is rubbing my ass raw) and pray.

To be continued.......

Wet and Wild

So I arrive with my swimsuit. I don't actually have it on, as I'm still holding out hope that this is just some crazy mix up. Tyrese sees me walk in, and immediately catches me before I go into the locker room.


"Get in your suit. You have 5 mins before I go in there and git you." (Yes, he actually said "git".)


I hurry in and throw off my clothes. As I'm wrestling with my suit, I start wondering if I need to do a little landscaping. I remember that my suit is one of those matronly ones with a skirt, so I stop worrying. I pull my cover up on as I walk out the door. Tyrese is standing by the front door, looking exactly as he did when I first walked in. I imagine he will just stand out of he pool, and yell at me from there. Or maybe he has a bullhorn or a whistle? Or both?


We walk across the street, and sure enough, he has a key to the pool. (BTW, if I ever find out who is lending him that key, I'll going to put the voodoo on them.)


"ummmm.....I'm pretty sure I'm going to get a yeast infection if I go in there."


He just looks at me.
Then he blows his whistle at me.
Dammit.


The pool is small and lonely. And cold. I go into a dark corner, and take off my cover up. I enter in the shallow end, and I'm taking baby steps towards the deep end. I look up in time to see Tyrese rip off his sweats, revealing shorts underneath, and dive into the water.



Mercy.





He swims two laps in perfect form by the time I wipe the water out of my eyes. I'm pretty sure I looked like a drowned rat (in a skirt) by now. He swims up next to me, and tells me it's time to start. I start swimming to the far side of the pool. My shoulders creak and pop the entire time. I get to the end, and I'm already out of breath.


"That's 15 ft. you have 19 more laps to go."


Then he whistles at me again.


Nineteen freakin laps!! Nineteen!! I start swimming because I don't want him to blow his damn whistle at me again. Around lap number 5, I get water up my nose. There is no recovering from that. I stop and hug the side of the pool while my head is throbbing. He 's already whistling. I try and ignore him.

"I got water up my nose. I need a break." It suddenly gets weird. He heads over to me. And for an actual second, I think that he is going to stick his finger up my nose. I lean my head back, away from him. Instead, he starts kneading my head and cheekbones. I'm not sure what to do at this point. As soon as he slows down, I move away from him and tell him that I'm ready to swim.

"Okay, but speed it up some. You're too slow."

"Oh, that's my skirt. It's holding me back. It's causing drag."

He ignores me.

I sputter my way through a few more laps. Every time I start to get tired, I start to doggy paddle. Every time I start to doggy paddle, he blows his whistle at me.

I ignore it.

The worst part is that it's not so much that it's tiring on my muscles, it's just hard on my lungs. I feel out of breath, and I don't like it.

On my last few laps, I walk them. I mean, underwater, I'm tiptoeing along, but above water, I'm still flailing my arms along like a goon. (I know I'm not fooling anyone, but it was worth a shot.) Surprisingly, he doesn't say anything to me.

I finish my laps, and get out of the water. He does the same. While I wrap myself with my ginourmous towel, covering every bit of me, he lounges out in the sun to dry off. (I don't even remember if he had a towel or not. I was too busy being mesmerized by his body.) I work hard on regulating my breathing, and getting the water out of my ears. And out of my nose. I grab my stuff, and start heading out. He open one eye, but doesn't move from his lounge chair.

"Saturday, we're meeting on the beach."

WTF.
"Why?"

"So you don't tip toe on your laps."
He closes his eye, and turns his face back to the sun.

So now I got to do this again, but next time with sand in my swimsuit.
Great.

Big Mouths that Can't Say NO

Guess who has a big mouth??



Go on. Guess?



Yes, me.

You know what makes it worst? The fact that I can't say "no." (which ironically, made me very popular in college. Big mouth and the inability to say "no.") The trifecta would be that I'm also an asshole. (<----I'm pretty sure that sound was the sound of my Mormon fans clicking elsewhere.) Let me start at the beginning, because you are never going to believe this one.

I volunteer at my church. (****I'll hold your spot here, while you stop laughing.............) In fact, I'm pretty active in my church.
Shocking, I know.
I help out with the nursery and the youth group. (lord.....please bless those poor kids.......) I really enjoy it most of the time too. When don't I enjoy it? Why, when I get railroaded into volunteering for a week at the sleep away camp with 25 junior high kids! Twenty five kids, that aren't even mine!!! There wasn't enough parent volunteers, and if I didn't step up, they would most likely cancel the trip. (And here is a prime example of my inability to say "no.") So, now I'm tangled up in this camping trip.

Wait, it gets better.

Since this camp is on a lake, all the kids have to take a swimming test on the first day of camp. This designates which activities they will be allowed to do, based on their skills. Safety first, you know?? The swimming test is 100 yds. (for those who in the USA, that would be 300 fts.) which is four laps in an Olympic size pool. Guess who also has to take the swim test??

This asshole right here.

So, now I have three weeks to be able to swim 100 yards. (which, BTW, is a lot harder than it sounds.) Three weeks!! So, it’s no surprise when I whine about it to Tyrese. (This is where my big mouth appears.) He’s silent, while I’m grunting away on a machine. I actually stop thinking about it, (and concentrate on not puking) until he brings it up again at the end of my session.

“Bring your swimsuit tomorrow.”





What?






I try and not react. (note to readers: this works about 98% of the time. This particular time is the other 2%)
“Yeah, right. You just want to see me in a bikini.”
This time…..he’s trying not to react.
“Bring goggles too,” and he turns and walks away.


What?? What?!?! What???!!!

I chase after him. I’m torn between not bringing any extra attention to myself, and finding out what the hell is going on!
“but, but, but…….there isn’t a pool here.” (Like “duh”, huh?)
He turns to me and tells me, “there’s a pool at the apt complex across the street. I have the key.”
Then he shut his office door.

What the hell just happen?! Why me? Seriously?? Why?? (ummmm…..my big mouth again?) I’m dreading the next day. I consider cutting the crotch out of my swimsuit, but I know that I’m getting into the water tomorrow, no matter what.

Crotch or no crotch.

Fossy! Fossy!

Guess who's back?

The milk crate.



*sigh*



Right foot up. Left foot up. Right foot down. Left foot down.



Boooooring.



So, when Tyrese isn't looking, I add a kick-ball-chain to the mix. (why not?) It makes me giggle. Every time he's not looking, I look straight ahead watching myself in the mirror, and add a little kick-ball-chain to the motions.
Then, I add some wiggle to my hips.
I giggle some more.
He looks at me, and I stare right back, blankly. (Years and years of training enable me to keep a straight face.)
As soon as he turns his head.

Jazz hands!

(because jazz hands make everything fun.)
I giggle some more. This isn't so bad. I know I look ridiculous. But this makes me laugh like a goon. Which enables Tyrese to notices that I'm actually having fun.
He takes a step back. Looks around. (for a whoopee cushion? A falling anvil? A flying boston cream pie?) He doesn't see anything awry, so this makes him a little bit nervous. He continues to look around. This makes me giggle some more. Which makes him more nervous. He takes another step back.
I finally finish that last set. I'm smiling. Tyrese doesn't like this one bit. He tells me to do 300 bicycles. He walks across the room, and watches me from afar.
This makes me giggle even more.
I look like an insane person, exercising and giggling.
I stop, only by the sheer fear of squeaking out a tiny fart. So now I'm on the floor, gasping for air.
Soooooo much better.

Tyrese is still watching me, slowly shaking his head.

Before I leave, he tells me to add one spoonful of peanut butter to my diet. I think he's afraid that my brain is starving. (and apparently eating itself.) This make me start giggling again.
I leave the gym happy, for the first time.

P.S. I wish I had thought of acting insane sooner. Make a mental note, friends.

Welcome to the World of Thin

For my niece's 9th birthday, I take her to the local amusement park. (I take her and her brother every year. It was just "the girls" this year.) Somewhere along the last year, she outgrew the kiddie rides. It was fast and furious roller coasters on this trip. (which of course, I do not like.) I tried as hard as I could not to show her my anxiety, since she was being so brave. (sidenote here: You know how you can buy those pictures at the amusement park that show the look on your face while you're riding the coasters?? I bought three of them.....plus the video. Eyes closed, teeth clenched, white knuckles, hair askew and a little bit of drool in the corner of my mouth. You can actually see the silent scream coming out of me. That's how freaking funny it was. Mr. Hummingbird hung one picture in our hallway, for all to see. He'll regret that one later...trust me. )
I was on swings. (ACK!)
I was on flippy cars. (ACK! ACK!)
I was on pendulum pirate boats. (ACK! ACK! ACK!)
I was soaking wet, riding logs. (ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK!)
Finally, I convinced her to "just see" what was in the kiddie area.

We make our way over to the kiddie rides. She rides a few rides with me, just for old times sakes. She's a little bored, so we make our way over to the "kiddie roller coaster". It's small, and rickety. (It looks like an instant backache.) As we're waiting in line, there is a .....ummmm.....scary guy standing in front of us. (Scary in the sense that he's probably familiar with the inside of a jail cell. Maybe several times over.) He's standing in line with a young girl, around 6 years old, and a similarly scary woman. Obviously, they are a family. They are also very overweight. All of them. The young girl is maybe "chubby" while the mom and dad are seriously about 200 lbs overweight. Since I've been in those shoes, I don't judge them.

In front of them in line, there is a younger girl, maybe 4 yrs old. She is with a man, obviously her father. This man is pretty big too. He's wearing a Hawaiian shirt, that must have been custom made because of it's size.

We all stand in line, avoiding eye contact. We slowly make our way to the platform. Right as we get close, Scary guy gets out of line, leaving Scary mom and their girl. (later, I realize that there was no way he could fit in the seat.) Scary mom strikes up a conversation with Hawaiian shirt. She asks him if he thinks the two girls can ride together. (Again, I don't realize this until later, but there is no way either of the two parents would fit in the ride.) They agree, and they looked relieved. My niece and I climbed into our seats. The two young girls fill the seats in the car in front of us. Suddenly, the older girl starts to freak out a little. She doesn't want to go on without her mom. The mom is trying hard to convince her to stay. The girl isn't buying it. She wants out. And if she gets out, the younger girl can't ride either. The Scary mom is looking desperate.
"I'll ride with her," I say.
I turn and look at my niece.
"Go sit with the little girl." She gets up and moves to the cart in front of me, sitting next to the younger girl. The older girl sits next to me. She's still afraid. Scary mom and Hawaiian shirt are herded towards the exit.
"Are you scared?" I ask her as the ride starts.
She nods.
"Do you know how to ride a bike?"
Her face lights up when I ask her this.
"Yeah, I can ride really fast too!"
"Well, there you go. Your bike is going to be faster than this ride."
She starts shrieking, as the ride is making it's first turn. For a second, I start to worry that she is crying. Then....I realize that she's giggling. The ride is over before we realize it.
My niece helps the younger girl out of the cart, and we all head to the exit. Scary dad is there, and his daughter is telling him, "again! again!" He's so happy that she loved the ride. (I no longer see a scary guy, but a regular dad who was excited for his daughter.) He corners me, and asks me how I convinced her to ride. I repeated our conversation, and halfway through it, he starts laughing and cheering.
"Good answer! Good answer!" He thanks me again, and takes his daughter back on the coaster.
A few minutes later, we see Hawaiian shirt walking around. He stops and thanks me for taking his daughter on the ride.

It's not until way later that night that I realize that I was now one of those "thin adults". I never gave it a second thought on whether I was going to fit in the rides. Before, I would just walk the kids to the entrance, and then wait for them at the exit. This time, I was completely in the experience with my niece.
It's now a different world for me.

Working Out with Your Husband

Occasionally, I've been lucky enough to be at the gym at the same time that Mr. Hummingbird is there. (I suspect that I'm the lucky one. Mr. Hummingbird is definitely not the lucky one.) Mr. Hummingbird is working out with another trainer, so it's not like we're there side by side. (Plus, he pretty much ignores me when I'm there. Not because he embarrassed by me or anything. He says that it's because he's "focused". Uh huh.) He's usually in the dirty spit-y weight room, (did I tell you that the guys all spit in the water fountain??? Why do they do that?? Nasty.) and I'm usually with the circuit machines. It's a nice marriage.


Today, Tyrese is lucky enough to have both of us. (Lawd help him.) He watches us warm up, and get ready to start. (BTW, Mr Hummingbird is still trying to stay "focused" and ignore me. As I'm standing thisclose to him. Sheesh.) He tells us that since we can't work out on the same machines, (I'm doing many many reps on low weights, while he is doing few reps on heavy ass weights) we're going outside. He points out a course around the building and block and we're going for a jog. (By "we" that's just Mr. Hummingbird and me. Tyrese is watching us from the air conditioned room.) I hop around a bit, shaking out my limbs, doing my boxer's moves. Mr. Hummingbird just watches me. (I throw out a karate kick, just to watch the fear in his eyes.) Tyrese gets out his stop watch and tells us to get ready. He shouts "GO!" and we take off running. (so much for jogging) Mr. Hummingbird takes off in a full sprint, while I barely start a brisk jog. I continue at my pace, and it's no surprise that Mr. Hummingbird and Tyrese are both waiting for me at the "finish line". Neither say a thing to me. They both must be "focused".


We continue this routine for two more times. Each time, as I'm jogging, my mind starts to make note of all of the blind spots. I notice exactly when Tyrese can see me, and when he can't. By the third lap, I was ready. When our lap starts, as soon as I'm out of his sight, I duck behind a car. I hunch over, and walk/crawl through the parking lot. My plan is to get to the end of the lap, with out running any of it, and without getting caught. I'm halfway there, when I hear, "What the HELL are you doing??!" I turn to look.....and it's Mr. Hummingbird. I grab his hand and push his head down, behind the cars. I start to pull him towards the finish line, thinking that he's probably just as tired as I am. He'll be happy.


"NO! That's cheating!"


Now, I'm not sure that I've ever mentioned it before, but Mr. Hummingbird is also Mr. Insurance. What exactly does that mean? He has no flexibility in his morals. ZERO. Unlike me, who is very morally flexible. Enough for both of us, apparently.


"It's okay. We won't get caught. Just breathe heavily"


"No, we have to go back and start again. Now you messed up our times." he grabs my hand and leads me back to the start.


I drag my feet the whole way.
I give him the stank eye.
I'm tempted to take off my earring.
I'm tempted to pull my hair into a ponytail, and smear vaseline on my face.

Not good.


Mr. Hummingbird tells Tyrese that we have to do that lap all over again. Tyrese doesn't ask any questions. I'm jogging next to Mr. Hummingbird, and I start to get mad. I start to get embarrassed. I consider tripping him, but fight the urge. As "punishment" I get to do an extra lap all by myself.

I give both of them the stank eye, the entire time I'm running. I'm trying to decide who I'm more angry with.


Afterwards, Mr. Hummingbird tells me "if you're already there, you might as do the work." All I heard in my head was, "Waaah wah waaah wah waah!" (like in the Peanuts cartoons.)

He's crazy if he thinks he's getting any of my pie later. (not an actual pie. If I had an actual pie, he wouldn't get any of it either.)

Don't Swallow Your Tongue!!

As I'm warming up, Tyrese says to me, "prepare for hoops today" and walks away.
For a split second, I actually think that we are playing basketball. (my sphincter actually clenches at the thought.) I rapidly try to think of an escape, (I never met a bathroom window that I couldn't climb.) when I see an absolute horrible sight.


Tyrese is holding a hula hoop.




(my sphincter clenches even more.)



I look around, to see who's the idiot that's going to use that hula hoop.




Oh, uh.


In my mind, there are two kinds of people in the world.
One is the young pretty fair haired slender girl. She has pink flowers in her hair, and is wearing pink corduroy pants. (that don't make that weird swishing sound when she walks, either.) In one hand she has a pink lollipop, and her other hand is extended out like Barbie. She is hardly moving her body, but (magically) there is a pink glittery hula hoops swooshing around her body at the speed of light. She continues this the entire time she is eating the pink lollipop.

The other is a short and chubby dark haired girl. She might have flowers in her hair, but it's hard to tell under the rat's nest on her head. Some of her hair is sticking to something on her face. She's wearing her older brother's hand me down clothes. With her jam-hands, she's holding a hula hoop. She swings it around her body, throwing her full body weight into the swing (she actually loses her balance a little). The hoop makes one complete rotation, then immediately crashes to her feet. She looks down at her feet, wondering what she did wrong. Then, her pants fall down to her ankles.

Guess which one I was??


I walk over to where Tyrese is, and ignore the hula hoop. (If I don't look directly at it, it doesn't exist.) He practically opens my clenches fist, and shoves the hoop into my hand.

Sigh.


I look around, and notice the unusual increase in young, good looking, meatheads in the weight room.

Awesome!

I start to tell Tyrese that I can't do the hula hoop because my I have a bad hip. Tyrese doesn't even flinch. He pulls out a stop watch, and tells me that in 30 seconds, I will hoop for one solid minute.
I hear a weird squeak, then I realize that it was coming from my throat.

"READY.....GO!"

I swing with all my might, and start to move my hips like a crazy person on fire.

For an actual second, I think that Tyrese thought I was convulsing.

When the hoop landed at my feet, and I looked up at him, I think he realized that I was still conscious. (20 more seconds, and I think he would have dug out my tongue to keep me from swallowing it.) He stares at me. I stare at him. I could tell that he was trying to figure out whether I was being serious or pulling his leg.
"What the hell was that?!?"
"Um, whatever do you mean??" I make a mental note to look up How to Hula Hoop on Youtube later.
"Girl. That was just ugly."
Ouch!
That's when I realize that there was absolutely no sound in the gym. I nonchalantly looked back over my shoulder, and out of the corner of my eye, I see every.single.person looking at me.
Tyrese regains his composure and says, "okay, 30 seconds, and you try again."
Okay, I'm going for it this time. I raise the hoop up high on my mid-section. I figure that I need all the "runway" that I can get.

"Okay..........GO!"

I turn with all my muscle in my upper body, shaking my ass like I'm in a rap video. The hoop goes across my boobs, and falls straight down to my feet, almost as if it was full of lead.
I stare at Tyrese. He stares at me. I again nonchalantly glance over my shoulder, and stare at everyone in the gym. (I also nonchalantly check to see if I split my pants. I'm golden.)
"I.....I don't know what to say." He looks around the room, I think he was maybe checking for an undercover camera or something.
"Am I done??"
"No. But are you okay? That one looked painful."
I ignore the smart aleck.
"Okay.....in 30 seconds, show me what you got."
This time, I have the hoop over my shoulders. My plan is to spin it around my neck. (Looking back, I'm not really sure what the hell I was thinking. I somehow thought that it would be easier.)

"GO!"

I start spinning the hoop around my neck. I clench my teeth, and veins start bulging out of my neck. I lean over, and stiffen up my body while the hoop is turning around my neck. I start rocking back and forth, eyes bulging. (I feel like one of those drinking birds. ) My arms are flapping around, looking for balance.

Tyrese takes a step back.

This went on F.O.R.E.V.E.R. (I suspect that Tyrese lost track of time.) I stop on my own, and he says nothing.
"Am.....I.........done?" I huff. I'm dirty. I'm sweaty. My nose is running. My shirt is practically twisted around me.

"Well, I am. I can't watch that anymore," he shakes his head, and turns to head back to his office. Without turning around, he say, "Do some bicycles. But don't hurt yourself." Then he mutters, "And stop scaring everyone."







I flip him off. (<----don't worry. His back was still turned.)