Hungry, Hungry Hippo

It took little to no convincing for my bestie N to entice me to purchase a three-session boot camp LivingSocial deal for $15 – which includes a $50 skin care gift card. The actual GOING to the classes did and still is taking some persuading. You see, the preferable time slot for us is 6am, and I am not a fan of the following:

  • Waking up (ever) 
  • Darkness
  • Peppy instructors
  • The Morning 

So, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster at the dawn of time I popped out of bed, anxious to put my body through what I could only imagine would be equal to the 60 minutes of hot yoga I have been enduring recently.

WRONG.

First things first. Upon entering this little studio, an office space that has been converted into an empty room with a wall of mirrors, iHome (for beats, yo) and inspirational wall mural I was thankful that I had been hydrating and had also taken a few quick swigs of a Sugar-Free Rockstar I dug out of the fridge. I was not thankful to see that the next 50 minutes of my life were about to be dominated by a girl that I went to high school with, same graduating class and everything. ::insert f-bomb here:: And at 6 am, she recognized me. ::f-bomb x2::

Most people go to theses classes to get in shape to then see people they went to high school with and say “yah, SUCK IT – who’s hot now?”Rather, I end up in a class taught by a classmate, in the front-center row none the less. Great.

Being that I spent the past six months not working out, drinking champagne and eating out — I can honestly say I am not in my peak physical condition. In my attempts to hold a plank position (read: torture) and do Woman Makers — I got a first name (pronounced wrong) spout of encouragement. And that sealed it. I looked to my right to see the slight smirk developing on N’s strained face.

Meanwhile, my thoughts were screaming “SCREW YOU SCREW YOU!! You did this for like 10 effing seconds and you’re making me do it for a MINUTE. I HATE YOU.”

Gillian Michaels provokes a similar response from me during her 20-Day Shred.

While trying to complete a 1-minute wall sit with my right leg raised and my foot pointing and flexing, I tried to mentally “commit” to finishing out the 50 minutes.

Thirteen minutes later I’d had it. No more of this. My upper body was jell-o. Sure, why don’t we take the weakest part of my body and exploit the $#%* out of it? Leaving the studio, it only took seconds before I’d turned to N with steely eyes and flat pursed lips – a look that is neither attractive or comparative to what my Grandmother can accomplish – and said, “really?” (btw, have you seen the new Microsoft Windows phone commercials? They are up there with the AT&T texting commercial that can be credited for Grandma’s everywhere saying “IDK my BFF Rose.”)

By 7 am, I was ready for a Starbucks, a shower and a new instructor. Also, less of whatever it was I just did but more physical results. (The term you are looking for is lazy.)

If you’re wondering about the title, after expressing my desire/immediate need for Starbucks, N said “Hungry, hungry hippo?” …um, excuse me? She then pointed down to the game I once dominated as a 4th grader piled crookedly in her trunk.