This is Why I Don’t Work Out

Last August I joined Bally’s Total Fitness in my town.  I thought it would be a great way for me to take some yoga and aerobics classes, and I really needed to get in better shape.  I specifically chose Bally’s because they were one of the few gyms who offered month-to-month memberships, meaning I could cancel at any time.  When I went in to join, the gym representative (for the sake of anonymity we’ll call him “Satan”) told me that the month-to-month special was still running.  Because I knew what my dedication level was, I asked about a thousand times, “And you’re sure that I can cancel this membership at any time?” and “Satan” responded about a thousand times, “Of course!

Great!  Sign me up!

Jump ahead to the end of September.  I have now been to the gym twice.  Once on the day I joined and once because I forgot my iPod on the day I joined and I had to go back to get it.  Clearly, I was wasting my money and so I called my gym representative and said that I wanted to please cancel my gym membership.  This is the point where I was informed that I had signed a 2 year contract and, therefore, was obligated to pay for the next 2 years.  I calmly explained to the gentleman that there must be some mistake, as “Satan” had clearly stated my contract was month-to-month and eligible to be canceled at any time.

“No,” the gym representative argued.  “You’re in a 2-year contract.  No cancellations.”

“Sir,” I said.  “I’ve been to the gym twice.  I eat Ruffles potato chips for breakfast.  I sometimes spend entire weekends without once getting off my couch.  I have been known to walk my dog by driving a golf cart next to her while she runs.  Do I sound like the kind of person who would sign a 2-year gym membership contract?”

Apparently, that doesn’t matter in the wacko world that is gym memberships, and I have been forced to continue paying my gym membership since August.  I tried using my pregnancy to get out of it, but I had to have a note from my doctor saying I was a high risk pregnancy and that exercise could compromise the baby.  My doctor wants me to exercise more, so that was out of the question.

I even tried explaining to the gym representative what “Satan” had promised me and assured me.  The gym representative said that “Satan” had actually been fired for promising similar things to other clients and he then suggested that I write in to appeal to the Bally Fitness corporate office, which I did immediately.  Which they rejected immediately.

Short story, I’m stuck in this membership.

And the only person who is more annoyed than me is Chris.  I thought he was going to kill me.

“What would possess you to join a gym?” he demanded.

“I thought I would get healthy and fit,” I argued.

“Are you healthy and fit now?”

“Not exactly.”

Needless to say, it has been a sore spot for several months now.

The baby is due June 3 and Chris has already declared that on June 6 he is dropping me off at the gym until I work off all the money we’ve paid for that stupid membership.  And every day he is going to drop me back off there until the 2-year contract is up.  I laughed and giggled when he said this and told him he was cute when his veins popped out of his neck like that.

But the closer we get to June 6, the more he is talking about this dropping me off at the gym thing.  Last night we were at dinner with my parents and in the middle of a conversation about how excited we all were about the baby coming, Chris turns to me and says, “What you should be excited about is your gym membership.  June 6 is right around the corner.”

Now, I’m getting worried.  He might, like, be serious.  I might have to, like, work out.  And I am dreading that possibility almost more than the whole shooting a kid out of me thing…

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Glide Me

I slept my way through New York yesterday.  And not in the fun way.

I was in New York takin’ care of some business before I headed out to see the family in Atlanta.  I was a little nervous about spending the entire day there because lately my feet have started swelling (attractive, right?) and the only thing I could think of was, “Where will I sit down all day?”  I had to be at this office by 9:00 AM and then had to stay in the city until 8:00 that night because Chris and I had tickets to see In the Heights on Broadway.  That left me with 11 hours to kill.

The entire day ended up being a search for a place to sleep.

I was fine until about 11:00 AM, and then my feet started to get achy and my back started to hurt and my eyes started to get heavy.  It looked like the beginning of the end.  But think about it.  When you’re in a city all day, where can you sleep – or even put your feet up?  I started to sympathize with the bums.  I also started to scope out park benches, but decided in the end I could probably be a little more clever.

So, I found a Barnes and Noble.  I figured I’d curl up with a good book in one of their strategically placed comfy chairs and rest my tooties until I was ready to eat (which is about every 45 minutes lately…).  But when I got to Barnes and Noble, the only chairs they had were those old wooden ones.  The kind in the courtrooms on TV.  Not ideal, but it would work.

I fell asleep within 10 minutes.  Dead asleep.  Like when I woke up, I had dropped my book and purse on the ground and was sitting there with my head thrown back, no doubt snoring.  Again, all of this makes me a very attractive person.  That glow they say preggo ladies have?  Yeah, its probably just saliva smeared on their face from drooling in their sleep.  That can glow in the right lighting.

I decided to move on.

I grabbed lunch on a park bench and contemplated the liklihood that my belongings would still be next to me when I woke up if I happened to doze off there.  Not a good chance.  And so I moved on again.  And guess what was around the next corner?  BABIES R US!  And do you know what Babies R Us sells?  Gliders and rocking chairs!!!  SCORE!

So, I head into B.R.U. in search of a napping chair.  And man, did I hit the jackpot!  In this B.R.U., they actually set up mock nurseries to display their cribs, bedding, and rockers.  And these little set ups all have short little walls around them.  Its really like you are in your own nursery. It was my own napping room!  I looked around for a little bit and finally settled on a lovely cherry wood zoo-themed nursery that had a gloriously comfortable rocker AND ottoman.  This display was in the back corner, so I figured I’d get less traffic.  I put my backs down and jumped in the rocker and was sleeping in less than 5 minutes.

I slept there for 45 minutes.  Anytime I’d hear someone coming, I’d just pick up the pricetag thingy and pretend to be reading the specs of the chair.  And when they left, I’d go right back to sleep.  It was pretty awesome.  And brilliant, I think.  I was tempted to run out and tell the bum sleeping on the park bench across the way about my new find.  But then I had this mental picture of word getting around and there being a bum-rush on B.R.U.  Every nursey filled with a bum.  Just chilling in their glider.  I think it’d be great, but B.R.U. may have an issue…

After 45 minutes, I figured I had probably worn out my welcome or at least been noticed on the security cameras, so I headed out into the streets again in search for my next napping grounds.  This time, I ventured into Filene’s Basement because I remembered they had couches in their bathroom area.  SCORE!

At this point in my day, I was pretty shameless.  And my feet were getting bigger.  So, I put my bags down, kicked my feet up on the coffee table and snoozed for a while.  Another 45 minutes later, I moved on.

I eventually landed in a second Barnes and Noble, where I spent the rest of my afternoon sitting in the coffee shop with a good book and my feet propped up on chairs.  This is how Chris found me.  And then he hung his head in shame and took me out for dinner.

If pregnancy has taught me anything, it is that sometimes you just need to rest.  And if that happens to be in a city that never sleeps, well, you’re gonna have to get creative.

Pillow Talk

My baby bump is getting bigger by the day and its making it a little harder to do simple things like get out of the bed or tie my shoes.  But the biggest problem I’m having is sleeping at night.  You are supposed to sleep on your side because…well, I don’t really know why.  I mean, its obvious why I can’t sleep on my stomach since I’m pretty sure that would anger my tenant.  But I’m not sure why I can’t sleep on my back – something about blood flow I think?  So that leaves sleeping on my sides.  Not a fan.

I asked my doctor what I could do about my back at night and she said simply, “Just use more pillows.”  Great solution, right?

I go home that night and find as many extra pillows around my house as I can and I pile them onto my bed.  And then I stand there.  I don’t know what to DO with the pillows.  I try laying down and putting them along my back, since that’s where the pain is.  But that doesn’t really do anything.  It just feels like someone’s laying back there. Its kind of cozy, but it doesn’t make my back feel any better.

I get out of bed.

This time I arrange the pillows in a straight line.  Maybe I’m supposed to lay on top of them?  So, I climb on top of them all and try to lay down, but the pile is so big that I just sort of roll off to one side.

I get out of bed again.

Scratching my head, I stare at the pile of pillows trying to figure out what the hell “use more pillows” means.  How many ways are there to use a pillow????

This time, I put one between my legs (which actually helps a little bit) and shove one under my belly to keep me from rolling over (that helps a little bit, too) and then I start shoving pillows under me randomly, like wedges.  Maybe they are supposed to prop me up in bed?  Nope.  My body is now lumpy.  And uneven.  And while my back doesn’t hurt quite as much, my neck is already sore.

I get out of bed again.

I head to my computer.  I haven’t had a problem yet that Google can’t solve.  I google everything – “pregnancy backaches”  “backaches”  “sore muscles during pregnancy”  “no sleep pregnancy” – and I keep getting the same response.  Use more pillows.

WHAT THE CRAP?!?!?!  USE THEM HOW?!?!?!  USE THEM FOR WHAT!?!!?

Finally, I go back up to my bed and crawl in next to my pile o’ pillows and lay the most natural way possible.  With one still between my legs and one under my big bump, I just curl the rest of my body around an extra pillow.  I’m the big spoon.  And you know what?  It worked!  Curling up around that pillow put some give in my back and kept me from laying there board straight.  It instantly took the pressure off.

It was a medical miracle.

So, if you’re preggo out there and you are slow in the brain like me and your back is hurting you and someone says to you, “Just use more pillows,” first I want you to pinch them.  Hard.  Then, just cuddle right up to an extra pillow.  Your back will thank you.

You Make Me Sick!

For the past few weeks, I have been waking up every morning with a bloody nose.  Its the strangest thing.  I’ve never had one before in my life, and suddenly I have one every day!  I thought at first it was part of getting over my Christmas cold.  Maybe my nose had been traumatized and was revolting.  But its been weeks now and its still going on.  Now, I think its because of the weather.  Connecticut has been FREEZING lately!  See?  Here is today’s forecast:

So, I’m thinking since its so freaking cold and the air is so freaking dry that my nose is shriveling up and dying.

Yesterday I got this brilliant idea to put a humidifyer in our bedroom.  I thought maybe adding a little hot steam to the room at night my help keep my nose from falling off my face.

Chris was completely against it.

He said it would make us sick.  It wouldn’t help my nose.  It was a bad idea.  I told him to hush up and take me to Target!  So, we get to Target and pick out a great humidifyer.  Actually, it was almost a great humidifyer.  The great humidifyer was the one shaped like a frog, but Chris drew the line and so we just got a plain Jane Vick’s humidifyer.  And when we got home, Chris put it together for me, tucked me in, and I fell asleep dreaming of nose bleed-free mornings.

This morning when we woke up, my nose was great!  It wasn’t bleeding.  It wasn’t even stuffy.  But I did notice my throat was a little scratchy.  Chris and I turned to eachother at the exact same time.

“I have a cold!” we shouted.

What the crap, humidifyer?  I thought you were suppose to make my nose supple and lush?  Why’d you have to make us sick, too?  Now, I have to box you up and take you back to Target and when they ask me why I am returning the product, I’m going to have to tell them its because you’re a jerk.

Way to go, humidifyer.

Living Large

Will someone please tell me what the deal is with maternity clothes?  I don’t understand.  They cost a fortune, first of all.  And because there are not many discount stores (like TJ Maxx or Marshalls) that carry them, you are usually stuck paying full price.  And while I have never had problems forking over cash for clothing, I DO Have problems forking over cash for clothing that I grow out of in about a week.

I think I’m doing it wrong.  I’m buying clothes and then outgrowing them in record time.  Two weeks or one good washing later, the pants don’t fit and I can’t button my blouses over my belly.  And everything is made out of stretchy material, which is awesome for laying around the house in.  But when I have to get dressed to go out in public, I feel like a sausage that someone is squeezing in the middle.

I actually think I know what I’m doing wrong.  Its that I’m scared to buy bigger maternity clothes.  For Christmas this year, my Mom gave me a few really cute maternity outfits for work.  She also gave me a pair of enormous jeans.  E-nor-mous.  I unwrapped them, held them up, and started crying right there in the middle of Christmas.  Just burst into tears right there next to the Christmas tree.  My Mom immediately took the jeans and put them in a box with the promise that I didn’t have to look at them.

If I was mature enough to handle it, I actually need those bigger clothes.  Maybe they’re a little too big right now, but I’m getting so big, so fast that it won’t take long at all before I’ll be able to fit into those jeans (hence the Christmas tears…).  I don’t know why I have a problem with getting so big.  I have never been a weight watcher.  I don’t even own a scale!  When I went to the doctor for my first prenatal visit, I couldn’t even tell them my start weight.  I had no idea!  But now that I’m packing it on exponentially, I’m starting to feel huge!

To solve this problem, I have decided to wear sweat pants.  To everthing.  Maybe if I pair sweat pants with a sensible heel, no one at work will notice.  And for church, I could just wear little white gloves for a hint of sophistication.  I think that might work…

Insert Head In Toilet

Sunday night I was sitting in Carnegie Hall listening to a symphony concert with Chris and some friends.  I had my best preggie dress on, cute boots, my hair looked good.  It was a great night.  All of a sudden, I had to puke.  Yep.  It just hit me.  I was either going to throw up on my well-dressed husband, or I was going to need to find the nearest exit.

And I have pretty much been in the same condition for 48 hours.  I haven’t been able to keep anything down, and I feel like my insides are at a disco inside me.  At first, I thought it was the Bean.  Great.  My unborn child already hates me, I thought.  But after 2 days of solid upchucking, I went to the doctor who told me I had lost 4 pounds and that this wasn’t just morning sickness.  It was some kind of virus.  So, he sent me home with some medication (YAY!) and a threat to send me to the hospital for fluids if I didn’t start eating popsicles and drinking Gatorade ASAP.

I’m up and moving today, but who knows how long its gonna last.  I feel like I could blow at any minute now (sorry for the graphic description – I just don’t know how to make throwing up sound pleasant).

In the heat of my sickness, my Mom called me to talk about baby clothes.  I almost reached through the phone and strangled her.  I couldn’t even concentrate on picking my cup up to my mouth, and she wanted to talk about baby clothes?!?!  And then she finally came out with the reason she called.

“I’m so afraid I’m only going to get one grandchild out of you!” she cried.

Sadly, she might be right.  This pregnancy has been nothing but medical tests and throwing up, and I’ll be honest with you, I’m about over it.

But last night I was laying in bed, moaning and complaining to Chris about how sick I felt, and suddenly – I felt the baby move.  It wasn’t really a kick or a nudge or anything, but he was definitely moving around in there.  For several days, I have been feeling my stomach gargle and wretch, but this was definitely a different feeling.  And when I started rubbing my stomach, I could actually feel where he was.  There was a hard little spot in my stomach, and I think he was just all curled up in there, stretching and rolling around.  I spent the next 2 hours rubbing him and poking at him and just playing with him.  It was the coolest 2 hours I’ve had in 4 looooong months.

So, maybe this might all be worth it.  Maybe this little Bean will be more fun than a toilet bowl.  And I’m not making any promises here, but I would do it all over again if I could have those 2 hours I had last night.  Totally worth it.

Broken

Last night I was sick again.  Couldn’t keep anything down.  I wanted to climb in my bed, pull the covers over my head, and hide there for several years…I mean days.  So, I’m sitting in my chair in the living room, curled up with my new blanket (a birthday gift from my mom-in-law, Jackie!), thinking about the shortest route to the bathroom.  I looked over to find Chris gazing affectionately at me, smiling.  Beaming.

“What?”  I said.

He just sighed, leaned over and kissed me, and then went back to gazing at me.

“What???”  I said.

“You’re broken,” he said.

Not “you’re beautiful even when you’re sick” or “you’re cute when you’re green” or “I love you for growing my child even though you can’t eat or sleep.”  Nope.  None of those sweet things.

“You’re broken,” he said again, still gazing and smiling.  “And there’s nothing I can do to fix you.”

My husband, who has the patience of Job, who could fix a broken light bulb, who loves me more than anyone else does.  My husband has given up all hope of me ever being normal again.

This is not good.  Not good at all.