I was going to be a nice wife and not post anything about this, but I can’t help myself. I’m a little giggly thinking of it hours later! My niece took the girls to Disney on Ice today, so EN and I found ourselves with a free afternoon. I had every intention of going to the gym, especially since I didn’t get to go last Sunday, so I have to go both days this weekend.
We drove home from the girls’ ice skating lessons and I suggested that EN come with me. He asked why and I told him, “Cuz you fat.” Suddenly he’s got a thousand and one excuses as to why he absolutely cannot go to the gym. The best excuse was, “I have nothing to wear.” Oh yeah, the slob that insists his holey Harley shirts look just fine said he had nothing to wear. His workout clothes are at work for some reason. Several mysteries here: why would he bring his workout clothes to work? God knows he doesn’t use the gym there either. Also, when the hell did he get work out clothes? He did everything to try to get out of going, but I was having none of his titsy excuses. Off to the gym.
After whining, nagging and bitching, he finally changed into a workout outfit. Of course the sweatpants were the outdated kind with elastic on the ankles (tee hee!). I assured him that I had seen men working out with orange crocs on and that he would totally fit in. I reminded him that this gym is a judgment-free zone, so no one would point and laugh!
I took on the treadmill and he got on an elliptical. There was a hockey game on, so it kept his attention and he behaved nicely. When I was done on the treadmill, I jumped on the elliptical next to him and lasted ten whole minutes! Double last week’s time! Yay!
I believe there were several reasons that I lasted so long on that contraption of torture today. EN was there so I couldn’t look like a total wuss. I tried talking to him about something (the point of working out together is to have someone to talk to, right?) As graceful and coordinated as I am, I should have known better. I spoke about three words and tried to take the headphones off and nearly toppled of the damn machine. Instead of lurching forward to help me, my kind husband looked away like, “Who is this nutjob on the machine next to me?!” Then EN decides he’s really sweating and should take his sweatshirt off. I’m sure I made a face when I gasped and said, “You are wearing a t-shirt underneath, right?” Off comes the sweatshirt and there, working out next to me, is my studly husband, wearing a black t-shirt tucked into his elastic waistband (let’s not forget the elastic around the ankles as well!) sweatpants. Dear God, untuck your freakin’ shirt you dork!!! Judgment-free zone my ass!! Now it’s my turn to pretend I had no idea who that fool was.
I wrapped up my time on the elliptical and limped over to the nautilus equipment while EN kept on going. Amazing the energy he has when he’s allowed to watch a hockey game without his girls all over his shit. EN finally joined me when I hit the ab machines and we did those together.
What is tremendously frustrating is that he spent sixty minutes on that damn elliptical. Sixty freakin’ minutes. If I actually liked the guy, I might have found a spot in my cold heart to be impressed. Instead I just wondered who invited that freak along anyway.