Christian Grey definitely does not live here

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I trudge up the stairs still sore from Mondays P90x and Tuesdays Barre class. Up another 2 flights to a dark room with this contraption that looks like a huge trestle with straps and handles hanging from the top. I stare at it in fascination.

“You will be suspended from there.”

Who me? Oh. My. God! This is it. The famous Red Room of Pain. Christian Grey is going to walk through those doors any second with a flogger in hand. This is great! Why haven’t I signed up for this before?

*Martha, my dear friend and sometimes workout partner, says that it will be a great workout. I am so excited and now I find out it’s just her and me and the instructor, Sasha.

Martha has not read 50 Shades of Anything so she simply cannot appreciate our good luck. Luckily for us, I have read the trilogy…. Twice. Don’t get all judgey…. How else would I get the playlist down pat?

Anyway, Katy Perry starts singing about a dark horse and I am getting in the groove. Naked Me sarcastically suggest that I skip TRX and try pole dancing class. Really, do I have to put up with this from her? Back to class…We start by using the straps while we squat and do sumo kicks…. This was definitely not in the book….

Moving onto some very complicated rows, I begin to realize that this hurts, a lot, and an hour is a really long time. Somewhere in the middle of the set my body just says no and it refuses to do one more rep. Sasha says, “You are not going to quit on me now are you?” Ummm I don’t have a choice. I told my arms 3 times to bend and they told me to go f*** off. Hmmmm, that’s a first.

Sasha allows me get a quick break and moves onto chest presses while hanging from the damn straps. WTF? If I had known that this whole class was about me using my body weight as measure of resistance, I would have fasted…. for a month! Naked Me hangs out in the corner eating a cheesecake lollipop and drinking a French Martini with one eyebrow raised at the prospect of me actually fasting. She suggests that I start off slow and go for more than 2 waking hours between meals. I don’t need her attitude. Mind over matter, I decide to ignore her and I try to do the damn presses… Really I do but…

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This is going to be a hard limit for me.

Let’s move on to another sequence she says….. Ya, wanna know what this is code for? It means, “I will just sneak another exercise in that does the same thing and when her muscles are shaking and she looks like Michael J Fox she won’t be any wiser!”

Wrongo sister girl! This is the exact shit my hairdresser says when she says, “Just a half inch.” And then makes 4 sweeps over the same area like I can’t add or notice there is 2 inches of hair on the floor.

“Will you text me and tell me how you feel tomorrow?” What? I will save myself the data… I am already crying and ready to safe word.

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Onward we go… I am convinced that Sasha isn’t even a real human. In fact, I am fairly certain that she is a Terminator. She may even be a direct descendant of Arnold Schwarzenegger.

I have sworn so many times this class that I have lost count. I beg her to shut the door so that the Pilates women are not offended…. Nope, she won’t. I am just going to show up to next month’s grievance committee hearing and save them the stamp.

Martha has found a great stalling technique. Ask detailed questions about your form to save yourself the million reps. Of course she utilizes that when I am working my triceps and now Sasha loses track of time and of my pain. Nice try but the next time I tell her I will help with her form. Martha tells me that it’s ok and Sasha can help her. I whisper furiously with her to just go with it for crying out loud and that she owes me for leaving me hanging during arms. Martha laughs… We laugh a lot… And try not to pee. It’s a good pattern for us…

Class ends and I ask for a piece of cardboard so I can slide down the stairs. Sasha tries to tell me we are fresh out.

I have 3 days to the event and P90x in the morning. I don’t care what the Non Disclosure Agreement says. I don’t care what it looks like. I am telling you right now…..

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Christian Grey does not live here!

T-minus 10 days

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10 days to Gala! First dress arrives today and it’s a possibility. It will need some significant alterations but it will work. I wait for my first choice which is due to arrive on Friday. A snap decision will need to be made because my seamstress will need the week to finish the dress. So that leaves me 2 days to get to the point where my dress will be taken into and anything else that I can lose or tighten will be breathing room. So let’s get on with what I have been doing…..

I went out of town over the weekend and for the most part I was good, until lunch at Beef O’Bradys…. It wasn’t my idea, it was Naked Me and you know that she is always trying to foil my hard work and then she taunts me from the mirror when I climb into my bath. It was a poor choice I will admit, made worse by Naked Me’s order for our table of Pub Chips which are like thick homemade potato chips, smothered in cheese and bacon with sour cream and ranch on the side. I got the bacon on the side because my eldest daughter and I don’t eat bacon so somehow that translated to a healthier choice. Naked Me forces 6 or maybe 12 or 15 of them into my mouth before I realized that I hadn’t eaten fried foods in a while and…. Wait! What is that feeling in my mouth??? Omg, it’s like I ate engine oil. I drink and drink and drink my iced tea…. OMG, I have the equivalent of the BP oil spill on my tongue. I scrape my tongue against my teeth to try to rid myself of the horrid taste…. ITS NOT WORKING!!! I have the most undeniable urge to scrape my tongue against the pavement. Clearly, I have been eating clean for 3 too many days. My husband offers me an ice cream cone to get rid of the taste. He is in cahoots with Naked Me.

Feeling guilty I leave the table and offer to peddle on the paddle boats, so all 5 of us climb aboard and my son is my co-peddler. Wow! This is work… There is about 500 pounds of people on board of this boat and there are distinct times where it gets very difficult to peddle. Ironically, those time coincide with my son taking a break and resting his feet on the peddles. I don’t like him so much at those points but I remind myself that it’s temporary pain and I really do love him deep down… Until he wants to explore a short cul-de-sac that leads nowhere and he begins to peddle backwards in a grudge match to get there. In that moment with my quads burning and shaking I want to throw him off the boat into the 3 ft deep, unnaturally dyed, blue-green water that has turned the koi swimming by our boat a teal blue and orange. I catch Naked Me reclining in her gondola with a chocolate martini while Antonio effortlessly glides them through the canal. Why the hell did she have to come on this trip? I can’t get away from her for 5 minutes. I hope she falls overboard. Back to my boat where my son and I begin to disagree strongly about our course and I consider just jumping overboard and possibly swimming under the boat. I threaten to spank him if he doesn’t take his feet from the peddles, which he finds amusing because he is nearly 13 and I have never once spanked him or his siblings. So I come clean and tell him the truth, “if you don’t take your feet off the peddles I am going to throw you overboard.” Wish granted and I peddle us back in content in the fact that I have worked off the pub chips.

Saturday night, I try my very first chocolate martini, which has been on my mind since I saw Naked Me on her gondola. OMG, she knows her stuff! This thing is AWESOME! I am sure as I get to the bottom of my glass that there isn’t much I won’t do to have another one very soon.

So back home we go and Monday comes. It’s P90x time. I get to class and who’s this? Where’s Molly, the instructor from last week? Molly was subbing for Phoebe? Who is Phoebe? Oh hi, Phoebe. Nice to meet you too. This is the point where Phoebe kicks my ass and literally drains the blood from my veins. It doesn’t even take 2 hours after the class is over to feel sore. Phoebe knows me though, like on the inside. She knows that I have exercise ADD, she knows that given any amount of complicated choreography I will be a distraction to the rest of her students and probably a 911 call. This class is where I belong. As class ends and the life seeps out from my body that is lying in an unnatural angle on the mat, I ask Phoebe what else she teaches. She tells me just P90x on Mondays and Thursdays and she trains clients one on one during the rest of the week. I realize that Phoebe is the chick to take me to that place where my old perky butt lives and no muffin tops are allowed. I ask her to take me on as a client, she agrees to bring her book to Thursdays class, which is tomorrow…. If I actually survive it. But there is more on the menu and a few other things I need to try…. I heard there is something going on upstairs from P90x and it’s life changing…. It’s called TRX and I am going to try it! I am pretty sure that Christian Grey lives up there… Stay tuned!