Return of the Jedi: How Broke Bitches Stay Fit – NYC

“When you shake, your muscles are literally changing!” the instructor yells into her mic.

Well do I look like Rebecca Romijn as Mystique yet because I’m shaking like a shakeweight on acid right now!

shakeweight

The editor of the blog I write for thinks I should be less self-deprecating in my writing, so here’s half-assed attempt.

Baby steps, I tell myself. Sure, this is the first real opportunity you’ve had to look at yourself in a full-length mirror since you moved to New York, and sure, the panda looking back at you is a bit more oblong than you remember, but ya know what? You’re here, aren’t you?

Is that less self-deprecating?

“I just want to eat all the things.” My roommate and I are sitting on our couch. Or, rather, our new couch cover that took us only a month to purchase after the couch itself. We please ourselves with our aesthetic and economic choice on this bad boy, given that the gray cover was $50 less than the cream-colored cover at IKEA (bastards). We made it work with accented $4 pillows that, ya know, look a little limp right now, but that’s because they’ve been cradling our fat asses for all of 6 days…so…ya win some, ya lose some. Marveling takes all of 30 seconds. Then we’re back to being bored to tears.

It’s a Friday night. Why aren’t we out wreaking misery and woe on BedStuy? Oh yea, because three days ago we gave up drinking; she has a graduation/family reunion to go to in May, and I’m going home at the end of June to welcome my first niece into the world. …That and the British bartender at our local watering hole—legit—told us to “Go home!” (Because it ain’t a party until you get kicked out and disgraced at 10am on a Saturday, amirite?)

“I wanna look sexxay for when I go home.”
“Dude. You wanna look sexy for your unborn niece?”

In my head, I think, Well, I don’t wanna be her fat/ugly/alone loser-aunt, but I guess there might be something repulsive about that…

Last weekend, I got my first sunburn of 2014 at a soccer tournament, where I was an event volunteer (eff no I wasn’t playing!). I also realized then, when, surrounded by some very attractive sweaty, half-naked men kicking a ball around—who somehow came out of the woodwork and/or sprouted out of the ground for the event (seriously, where were you people all winter?)—it’s spring. A short spring, and then it’s summer. You’re going home (effectively) to the beach. So much for the unrelenting alcohol abuse and indulgence of fries and Jewish bagels all winter.

So, after that day (and after going back to aforementioned watering hole to watch Barcelona play Athletic Bilbao and getting shmammered to the point of oblivion…off three beers), we made a blood pact to stop drinking and to start working out. That’s why I had to refinance my life to take out my I-work-in-finance alcohol budget and invest in some ferosh Groupon/LivingSocial/Gilt City deals, and that’s what brought me back to the barre. You might remember that my adventures into fitness have been … humbling … but it’s the only thing I know that’ll change my body.

Hence why I’m here, in this studio, sweat cascading down my face and hating myself for having eaten that fatty burrito earlier. When you shake, your body’s changing. Wish me luck, fellow bitches (I don’t know your economic status to label you broke like me).

 

Kinda how I feel right now
Kinda how I feel right now

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