flaming triceps [ 2004-04-02, 2:16 p.m. ]

Loyal Diarylanders, rejoice and be proud of me! I have joined the gym!

Something I'd never thought I'd do... but it's, uh, something to do, you know? Somewhere to focus.

I went today, and the trainer there walked me through all the arm machines. I told him my desires (please get rid of all this squishy fat that waves when I wave) and that I had been doing little weights, but needed something stronger. He set me right up, machine after machine, and now I am convinced this man is going to whip me into shape, because as we speak my triceps are on fire.

In general I very much like my body, I am curvy and I don't have any desire to be stick-thin. But I want tone and strength, which is what I was trying to express.

GymMan showed me how to do stuff for my biceps and triceps and all that jazz. He told me I have strong wrists for a woman. I'm wondering if that's some kind of come-on.

I wanted to get right to legs but GymMan insisted that we'd done enough for today and we would do legs next time. Damn. I felt like he was sending me home before I was ready. I was prepared to stay at the gym for hours, losing myself in the in-out-up-down rhythm of machines and weights and reps and all that stuff. I felt almost happy, I realized later, that my focus was somewhere else.

At any rate I plan to go 5 days a week if I can. That should eat up some of the day and hopefully pull me out of some depression. Even if I am using it as an excuse not to think of things, the results will be good for me in the end.

Ta-da!

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