After my mortifying Halloween wake-up call, I unintentionally (and hopefully, temporarily) embarked on a renewed journey of self-improvement because, in a moment of weakness (I suffer from those...A LOT), I told my friend "The Other Amy" about how discouraged I was about how gravity, as of late, was having to expel a lot more energy than usual to keep me from floating off into the atmosphere. Having successfully lost weight through exercise and dietary maintenance, Amy enthusiastically encouraged me to "work out" with her. Again...it was a moment of weakness. And, it has changed my life.
Change #1: Opportunities to bond about my new hobby: Several weeks ago, I got into a heated argument with a colleague as I was eating a Snickers bar about my experiences in the Work-Out Room. "What did you call it again," he asked in a patronizing tone as he gulped down his 20 ounce Pepsi (hypocrite). Confused, I repeated myself, "The Work-Out Room." "Amy," he sighed, twirling spaghetti around his fork "it's called the Weight Room." I considered this notion for a moment. No...that was just stupid. "Yes, there ARE weight-lifting thing-a-ma-bobs in there," I conceded, searching my pockets for loose change for the vending machine, "but there are also things that you run-in-place on or pretend you're climbing stairs-to-nowhere." Now, I have to admit, my colleague is a gifted athletics coach with, or so I've heard, an impressive on-the-sports-field-related vocabulary but I...I am a language tactician. After visiting the vending machine, I stomped right down to THAT room to discover that...we were both wrong.
Change #2: An opportunity to learn more technology: "Uh..." I said, my hair swept up in an adorable ponytail, "how do I turn this climb-stairs-to-nowhere machine?" An 11th grader walking by paused to say, "You have to start moving first, Mrs. Mosiman." Oh. I awkwardly began moving, squinting at the screen. "Nothing is happening," I whined mournfully. A 9th grader walking by stopped to help. "See that giant button that says "Quick Start," she said, before pushing it for me. The screen lit up and I saw, to my delight, that, after a few minutes of lurching around on the stairs-that-go-nowhere, I had lost a full calorie.
Change #3: An opportunity to inspire others: So, there I was, lurching around on the stairs-that-go-nowhere, when a group of former 6th graders who had gotten alarmingly tall approached me and asked if I'd ever "planked." I informed them, in my most serious voice, that I DO NOT condone recreational drug use. Once we'd straightened out Mrs.Mosiman's alarmingly limited vocabulary associated with "working out" (oops, sorry), I found myself being pulled off the stairs-to-nowhere in order to learn how to "plank." Lay, stomach-down, with your weight on your forearms and toes," I was told. I blinked several times. What?!? The group of young men then modeled the "exercise" (sorry). I backed away in horror. There was NO WAY that I was going to do that! "No...no...no....no," they yelled after me, hands outstretched so as not to frighten away the fat kitten. "You just have to do it for, like, 30 seconds." There was a significant silence in the Fitness Room before everyone burst out laughing. Now I was mad. An intelligent adult, walking around with a stick (I still haven't figured that out yet), gently suggested that a good beginning goal would be ten seconds. Alright-y then. The boys thought I was joking when I complained of cramping up just by getting down onto the floor. I assumed the position. Kind of. "There has to be space between you and the floor," a 10th grader told me. I glared at him and through gritted teeth said, "There is." Like a magician, a senior swept a hand under my trembling torso and confirmed, "Yeah, she's practically an inch from the ground." I ignored the laughter as they counted me down from ten, applauding as I collapsed before dragging me back to an upright position and putting me back on the stairs-to-nowhere.
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