015: More observations from workout world (brought to you by sleep depravation)

So today, for the first time in a long time, I am exhausted. I dont think that cheat day has much to do with it. I think it has a lot more to do with the fact that my next door neighbor (who everyone is afraid of because she is batshit crazy and probably a meth addict) has convinced our landlord (who is probably terrified to say no) that she can renovate the 3rd floor of the building where we live into her own private penthouse.

So that means there is hammering, drilling, furniture moving, loud music, and drunken stumbling around until like 5 am. With no insulation in the walls. Awesome.

I am mentioning this more as a disclaimer about the crankiness of these gym observations. I still dragged my butt to the gym today (mostly because I wonn't have time on Wednesday OR Friday to work out), and maybe it was the sleep depravation, but the girls in the girls only area of the gym seemed about 1000 times more annoying than usual. So without further ado:

Letters to the ladies at the gym!

Letter one: The Woo Girl

Dear Woo Girl,

I was unfortunate enough to be jogging on the treadmill next to yours this morning. My luck was further accosted when I had to use the elliptical machine on the other side of you. Why is this a problem, you ask? Well, for starters, every two minutes you would let out a WOOP! of joy and fist pump the air with such volume and intensity that the first two times it happened you startled me to the point where I nearly face planted and fell off the treadmill. Thanks for that.

There is no doubt in my mind that you are thoroughly enjoying your workout. And that's great for you. Don't let me stop you. In fact, judging by how happily you were celebrating every 2 minutes on the treadmill, you probably don't get out much. Outrunning some chubby ladies in the girls gym might just be the highlight of your day or week. And I don't want to take that away from you. I really don't.

However. Imagine that you are working in your office or studio or whereverthefuck it is you work, or doing something else that requires a lot of concentration on your part. Let's say you're building a card house. If I stood 6 inches away from you and WOOPed like an exotic bird every so often, you'd have to start over a lot. It would break your concentration and you would fuck up. Some of us, who have lives, don't get to go to the gym every day so working out, really working out takes taht same concentration. So do us all a favor and kindly keep the fucking woops to your fucking self. Thanks.

Letter 2: Aerobic Spice Girls

Dear Aerobic Spice Girls,

I think it's lovely that you all work out together. Really, I do. In fact, I wish I had 5 friends that would pay a gym membership and clear their schedule to work out with me. So maybe I'm a little jealous, as I sit alone on this crunch machine, but I think it's something else.

I saw TWO of you work out in the girls gym today. TWO. The rest of you sat around on the equipment and watched the women walk out of the gym- and then talked shit about them. That girl's sweatpants are sooooo walmart specials, becky. Tattoos much? And that's not all. comments about their bodies, their hair. Not nice ones, either. You think nobody can hear you? I've got news for you, it's a fucing ECHO chamber in here.

It's really nice that you can waste your time sitting here doing nothing and talking shit about women who are working hard to improve their bodies. You don't need to excercise. You probably never have. You are probably the types of girls who have always been really hot and REALLY aware of it. Good for you. But can't you have your hen session somewhere else? Do you really need to crowd up equipment that some of us actually WANT to use so you can gossip about people you don't even know? People you probably won't ever see again?

Furthermore-

Who. THE FUCK. do you think you are?

I worked out for an extra 15 minutes today, until you bitches left (Thanks for making me push myself to do extra reps) so that I wouldn't have to walk by you as I left. And as you all left, I said a selfish, kind of mean little prayer to myself that tomorrow you wake up with an extra 200 pounds each on you. Cellulite and double chins and extra flabby skin. I hope you wake up hot messes, trapped in these heavy, clumsy bodies. And I hope that when you do,, you have to walk by girls just like you. And I hope they cut you to pieces. I hope they make you cry fat blubbery tears. Because otherwise you'll never even notice. You'll n never realize that even though they can't hear you, you're still being horrible people. And you're adults! ADULTS!

So in short: Get a fucking hobby and get the fuck out of my gym.

Sincerely,

Cranky Jenny

That felt fantastic to get off my chest. Seriously.

Working out was rough today without all those people there. I don't know if it was because I was tired, or because my body is hitting another plateau. It was so hard to keep my heart rate up where I wanted it to be today. Anybody have any insight or suggestions on this?

Thanks again to everyone who is reading and sharing stories and getting something from me writing this. Sometimes its humiliating, but I feel like if anyone is finding hope or entertainment or anything from this, then it's worth it.

Also, I miss facebook.

So. effing. Much.

Week3: 147lbs

Breakfast: herbalife shake w/protein powder and green tea

Lunch: 1 cup cheerios, 1/2 cup skim milk, green tea

Dinner: herbalife sake w/protein powder

Snack: 20 unsalted almonds

Water: 8 80z. glasses

Excercise: 50 minutes cardio (treadmill, eliptical, and some super scary machine that made me want to die), 300 crunches, various strengthening/toning activities.