5 months late, and right on time….

November 27, 2008
NSFW.ARMY

People across America suffer the same tardiness as I, being a ten minutes late for work, arriving at the bank 3 minutes after it closes, or 15 minutes after the last flower peddler peddles the last thanksgiving holiday arrangement. Everyone in the world is late for something. I am five months late in going to the gym, and I feel it through and through.
I know, I know, today is not a good day to post about going to the gym. Today, the day of the great Turkey, all hallowed gobble, when we American stuff our faces with gravy and stuffing and pie and bird until belts no longer fit, pants become unbuttoned and the football and beer drinking commences (as long as there is still room in the ol gut), today is not the day to think about getting in shape. In fact, thinking of being small slim and fit is the last thing from my mind on this special day of gorging, but like my countrymen stuffing their faces across purple mountains majesty, I too will be going on a diet.....Monday.
But it starts at the gym. Getting back in the swing of things. 45 minutes on the elyptytrainytrain, then either arms and back, or legs and chest. Always working abs. Sweaty hot mess elyptimacising through the gym, beet red, the lingering smell of cigarette and pot smoke drifts from my pores to the poor girl working out next to me and I'm almost positive she is getting a contact high from the THC pouring out of me.

in my head.....

"Arms, pushing pulling, pushing pulling, pulling is the object of stretching, no damnit flame focus this isn't fucking yoga, you are tough you are an animal you are working your sexy time muscles now WORK THOSE MUSCLES GIRL. In out, in out. Breathing breathing. yes, I remember this I remember this! Okay, arms cool. Lets do the daily ab."

There's an ab machine faintly resembling the basketball game at arcades, and this fat medicine ball rolls down to you, you grab it, do a sit up, and then toss it back up through the leather hoop meant to cushion the weight, all the while seated on a leather reclining exercise seat that moves the second you lean back on it, thereby forcing you to do yet another sit up. Fucking balls. And my machine only had one ball, so when I toss it up through that leather hoop, instead of crashing into a ball below which would absorb all the force with which the tossed ball fell, the tossed ball comes rushing out to my hands, my face, my teeth. I am terrified the entire time during the abdominal exercise, terrified of losing my face to a stressed out medicine ball.

in my head....

"I'm only on a guest pass, how would I explain this to the people at the front desk? "Sorry, I know I don't even belong here yet, but I seem to have already broken my face open on one of your fine abdominal oriented machines." No. Fuck this. Time to go. Already? You baby. But I already feel my body shutting down, the muscles long forgotten, remembering tension and weight, no matter how I stretch these motherfuckers are going to be sore. Yes, yaaaas, its time to go. You made it through your first day. You deserve some Ben and Jerry's. BUT THAT DEFEATS THE PURPOSE!!! Or is that the purpose? Stop arguing with yourself and leave flamer, leave this hot sweaty mess of people and go wash your fucking ass."

So I leave. Quit the internal argument about what can be handled, and what is deserved, and just left. And this is how LA my gym is.....

Sitting outside, one the bench sprawled out like a G, legs open arms wide and embracing, one of the Gotti boys waited for who the fuck knows what probably someone who is late meeting him, and talked a little shit on his phone.
AngelPie (my workout buddy): Oh look, there's one of the Growing up Gotti boys!
Me: What?
AngelPie: you know that silly show! Well, there one of em is?
Me: Which one?
AngelPie: Does it even matter?
Me: Touche saleswoman.

This conversation occurred at the top of the escalator. At the bottom, we run into another famous, although slightly more personalized star, my man Murs, hardest working man in the industry.

Me: Murs! You going to the gym too?
Murs: What? Oh Penny, whats up! You just get out of the gym?
Me: Its the only excuse I have for being beet red and looking/smelling like complete total shit.
Murs: Its a good excuse.
Me: What are you doing? Were you 5 months late for the gym too?
Murs: Naw, ten minutes late to a dinner meeting.
Me: Everybody is late. So everyone is on time? It's your world Murs.
Murs: Behave yourself Penny.
Me: Never.

He went to his meeting, we hopped in our car, which thanks to AngelPie's awesome handicap placard is parked pretty much right in front of the escalator, and that was that. We were both late for different things, but it made us right on time to meet each other. Funny how things work out.

So to everyone out there who is late like me, getting back into shape, to the gym, to a meeting, to the relatives (I'm going to be a month late going to my mothers for thanksgiving!), or to the turkey sitting in your hot little oven, don't worry. Be thankful that the people you are late to see love you. And they are probably late too.

Happy Great Gobbler and thank you for taking the time to read my words and share my life.....xoxoxoox