4.02.2007

Because he likes it when I post

In an attempt to combat the “I hate Wednesdays” negative attitude around here, I 've decided to make the most out of these fatigue-filled days by going directly from the office to certain humiliation at the climbing gym. (Hey, a girl's gotta have her flawed logic, let's move on.) Last week I had my first private lesson which went pretty well, all things considered (“all things” being the fact that I haven’t rock climbed in years, I’m about as coordinated as a 3-legged water buffalo and that for me, “upper body strength” = “are those your arms or two pieces of spaghetti flailing around”).

My instructor, Sir Climbsalot, had me demonstrate my (non)existent skills before we started. This was great, since it let me get started right away on all the humiliation. Humiliation? Cannot get to it fast enough. Let's roll up our sleeves and dig right in to all the humiliation. Mmm, humiliation, it's what's for dinner. (Okay, stopping now.) He showed me how to make like Spiderman and cling to an overhang, twist my hips around and leap up to another handhold. I showed him how I could spin away from the wall and land on his chalk bag with my right ass cheek, puffing a cloud of white dust up in the air like the grand finale of a magic show. Abracadabra, there’s a Quinn-shaped dent in your floor mat now.

Towards the end of the lesson, Climbsalot and I were competing in the local Sweat and Body Odor Competition, I had successfully completed three (beginner) climbs up the sides of their silo walls (only fell once), and he had been treated to a hundred grunts (I’m such a lady), a handful of sighs, three f-bombs (lady!) and quite a few blank looks (Climbsalot: “Now just bring your leg back, like when you’re doing a leg curl.” Me: *blink blink*).

Last week I went directly from the lesson to a massage appointment and was patting myself on the back for not having too many sore muscles or tired hands. Until, that is, Thursday morning when I was forced to contemplate just how many muscles are actually used when you shampoo your hair. And whether or not I could get away with just leaving the half-lather on my head and calling it a Look for the day.

The soreness has almost completely gone away, just in time to do it all over again Wednesday evening. Muscle abuse and mortification! Now that’s what I call living! I can’t wait for Wednesday.

3 comment:

Blogger That Nervous Girl said...

Sir Climbsalot - hehehe. Hey, I'm impressed - just stepping foot in one of those climbing places is more than I've done!

9:38 AM  
Blogger Lisa said...

You crack me up. I wish you lived in St.L would LOVE to meet ya. If you ever find yourself in St.L with some time (or trying to hide from the in-laws, let me know.)

7:49 PM  
Anonymous Pickle said...

I had a similar thing happen to me recently, except instead of rock climbing it was playing "Guitar Hero II" for the Xbox 360.

My roommate and I played it -- no joke -- for TEN HOURS STRAIGHT the first night we had it. I had to work the next morning, but that didn't stop me from staying up until almost 4 in the morning mastering "Carry On Wayward Son" by Kansas. You can't help but play this game like you're the craziest, rockin'est guitar player in the world, so I probably got more exercise than I've had in months.

I couldn't even type the next day. Sad.

11:12 PM  

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