After stepping on the scale recently, freaking out that my wedding dress wouldn’t fit and being sick and tired of my general health anyway I decided to join a gym. Smart? Probably, if you look at it as an investment into my long-term health. Frugal? Well, I went and took advantage of a special that they had – no joining fee and $29 a month. Does that count as frugal? Does that count as frugal if you ignore the fact that I signed an 18-month contract that only death and moving out of the state will get me out of?
I’m not beating myself up too badly about this recent acquirement, especially when I go to the gym and feel awesome when I’m rocking out to Weird Al Yankovich while treading on ye old mill. I’m 30 years old, I’m no Thumbelina and shortly after we get married, Future Husband and I want to start having a family. Have you ever heard about the linkages between women who are overweight and fertility problems? Yup, so have I. Hence, I joined the gym and I look forward to working toward a better future where I’m not winded by a flight of stairs. (And a wedding where my arms won’t spontaneously take flight when I do the “YMCA.” Seriously – my arms are just terrible and flabby.)
So imagine my surprise when I went to the gym for the first time and I found this little perk waiting for me … a wall complete with racks and racks of MAGAZINES! I admit it, I’m something of a magazine nut – complete with my very own subscriptions of various cooking magazines and a home and garden magazine subscription. (The cooking magazines have been Christmas gifts from my future mother-in-law. The home and garden magazine was something I picked up shortly after we bought our new home because I felt like I “needed” some sort of tome that would give me inspiration when it came to decorating and lawn care. Thirteen months after we moved into our first home, Future Husband and I still have a bare minimum on our walls.)
So on my first evening of my new life of fitness, I got to spend it with Uma Thurman. And then with the young starlets of Hollywood that Vanity Fair featured in their 2008 Hollywood special (not as cool as past Hollywood issues – I still love the one that Tom Ford edited with Keira Knightley and Scarlett Johannssen starkers on the cover with Mr. Ford looking like a lech in the background.) Other evenings have followed with Tina Fey and Tricia Yearwood. Tomorrow night, I’m really looking forward to reading the Marie Claire with Maggie Gyllenhaal on the cover.
While having magazines makes my time on the treadmill less grueling (and yes, I’m still kicking up my heart rate while I’m toiling), I have to admit … I know why I stopped reading that stuff in the first place. After 30 minutes on the treadmill and about 50 magazine pages, I find myself wanting to go to Macy’s and sniff the new perfume that Anne Hathaway is schilling for. Because darn it, she looks so great in that perfume ad and when they talk about the “sensuous undertones” that the perfume sports – I manage to forget that I have at least three bottles of perfume that have been gifted to me over the years and that most of them are still ¾ of the way full. Because I just don’t use perfume that often.
If I look at Naomi Watts looking super fine in some sort of outfit sporting those knee high boots, I’ll be damned – yeah, she’s about 150 pounds skinnier than me, but if I had similar boots – I’d look super fine too.
Someday I’ll tell you about my obsession with TLC’s “What Not To Wear” and the evening I felt prompted to go to Kohl’s and buy new lip gloss (that is now in the bottom of my backpack which is in the back seat of my car), but I think you get the picture. I know that I’m setting myself up if I watch too much Clinton Kelly and Stacy London, but when I’m toiling away in the gym – that’s about the last place I expect to get seduced by retail.
I’ll keep you all posted. For now, I’ve been able to keep temptation at bay and frankly, if I brought home a pair of knee high boots, I think that Future Husband would not be too thrilled (especially considering that we have no wall hangings for our living room). But man … trying to get my heart rate up on the treadmill. Tough. Fighting the temptation of wanting to be as stylin’ as the people I read about in all of my favorite magazines? Well, I think the longing will always be there, but magazines sell a certain fantasy to the people who read them. Right now, I like reality. (Although I still want new boots.)
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