Lies, Lies and More Lies

Ambition sucks. Ambition is highly overrated. Whoever said ambition is noble or some other crap like that needs to be shot. Ambition is the reason I'm chained to the house this beautiful Saturday evening (well that and I'm looking like Buckwheat's cousin). Ambition made me think I could handle two aerobics classes back to back. Ambition has rendered me an invalid.
I know I said that I'm perfectly content to be a fat cow, but after careful consideration I've determined that I'm just too shallow to start shopping for plus sizes. The fact that I live with The Curly Haired Stick Figure doesn't help my body image issues, either. I tried losing weight by adopting her diet of fruit snacks and Faygo Root Beer, but it left me feeling a little less than satiated. As a mere mortal I've got to do it the old fashioned way: sweat and junk food deprivation. Goodbye Haggen Daaz, hello Stair Master!
With a recovered body (read the previous post) and renewed motivation I woke up this morning at 8 a.m. to go to a 9 a.m. cardio kickboxing class. I spent an hour throwing jabs, right hooks, and left uppercuts at exercise induced mirages of my boss and The Idiot Who Made Me Cry. I especially enjoyed kicking out their knee caps and throwing an elbow to their skulls. By the end of class I was sufficiently sweaty and out of breath and ready to go home. As I gathered my keys, membership card, and empty water bottle the instructor mentioned something about staying for the next class, Body Step. Of course I completely ignored her since I had burned the obligatory 450 calories for the day. I walked out of the group fitness studio and what happened next is sort of a blur. What I do remember is seeing a poster advertising the newest craze in fitness, Body Step. It's step aerobics without all the stupid dance moves that have people looking like rejects from a Richard Simmons' video. Hmmm, doesn't sound totally heinous. I don't know how or why it happened, but I asked the instructor for more details. She proceeds to tell me that the class is a lot of fun and how it's designed for strength and conditioning training. So far it sounds good. I ask her, "Does it hurt?" She says, "Hurt? No!! It's just a really good good workout. Plus it really tones the hips and thighs." Tones hips and thighs? Ding ding ding ding ding!!! She just said the magic words to get me to refill my water bottle, set up my step and get ready for another class. I was feeling a bit worn out from kickboxing class, but desperation to fit into the skinny jeans trumps muscle fatigue any day. Besides, she said it doesn't hurt.
The beginning strains of Brittany Spear's "Toxic" filled the room signifying the start of class. I should've known I had bitten off more than I could chew when the step together step combination in the warm-up proved to be a bit too complex for me. Still, I persevered, spurred on by the allure of smaller thighs. We get through the warm-up and stretching and into the strengthening and conditioning. That lying heffer was so full of shit! It hurt and it hurt badly. She's having us squat and lunge and fly across the step to the extended version of "Yeah" sped up on meth amphetamines. To add insult to injury she keeps telling us to kick up the intensity by power jumping off the step after every move. The best I could muster was a feeble stumble that might have resembled a bunny hop. Yet still I press on. As the hell continues that fibbing tramp starts adding dance moves into routine. I distinctly remember being told there would be no dancing. Shit, I may be Black, but I can't do this shit. Step, kick, cha cha cha...WTF!! The white chicks in class had more rhythm and coordination than I did. I was looking like a crackhead doing the Harlem shake. Why in the hell am I doing this crap? Oh that's right, those infernal skinny jeans. Class finally ended and after all that pain and suffering my thighs were no smaller than they were before class. I'd been hoodwinked.
Things went from bad to worse when I got home. All of that exercise rendered my limbs useless. I've since lost all feeling (except for pain) in both arms. My abs are so worn out that it hurts to breathe. I get a charlie horse in my inner thighs every time I attempt to cross my legs. It seems as though I have to keep inflicting this shit upon myself before I see even minimal results. If exercise is supposedly so damn good for us, then why has it left me in need of a full body cast and traction? Somebody has made a lot of money feeding that propaganda to the masses, but now I know what fat people everywhere know. Physical fitness is BULLSHIT!