the amazon woman pumps iron

i caught myself in the mirror yesterday at the gym and thought, "oh my! look at that angry woman. make her eat a sandwich." i had complete red-face from running for the last half hour, a sweat mark the shape of michigan on my back, and oh, the awesome workout clothes make me look like a human-giraffe hybrid. i know that no one wants to hear that i hate how skinny i am, but i am one gangly looking individual when attired with yoga pants and a tight work-out top.

for 2010, like about 45 other people who like to work out at the same time as me, i decided i needed to get in shape. true, my body mass index says i should gain about 15 pounds, but healthy is relative when speaking bmi's. i can't make it up two flights of stairs without grunting, panting, and cursing finn for weighing so much and still needing to be carried around. so i have been going to the gym about 3 times a week for the last 1.5 months and eating healthier woman-sized portions. i can now eat only half a pizza and consider myself full, a feat that is only trumped by running on the treadmill for 30 minutes straight. especially when you consider the people that always decide the treadmill next to mine is the most fit for their needs. their needs of course being to run so erratically that their sweat manages to fling onto my arms/face, to encourage themselves loudly by shouting "keep going" "don't stop" "you are better than this" over and over again throughout their workout, and to compare themselves with myself by peering quite obviously over to my screen to notice my pace then go just enough faster.

i love the gym.