TODAY, I stepped back into the gym for a 'propper' rehab session...non of this elastic calf pumps... I'm talking about a 'propper one-on-one with The Coach! His last words before I walked out of work last night were delivered with a smug ass smile and the words "I'm going to smash you tomorrow!"
SO...Ninja skills started off with what I refer to as "The Startled Ninja", the kind that when the alarm goes off, you sit upright in bed at the sound of music like you are about to attack a game of musical chairs with the ferocity of Usain Bolt after the starters gun. Literally...that is the name of my first alarm (yes i have four-clearly my mornings are my strong point.)
< Startled Ninja
<Like a gentle tap on the ass from your future self.
<I don't appreciate the tone....
<Sarcasm this early should not be tolerated....
SO...anyways... back to the gym I went...Coach had that same smug ass smile on his face from last night, except this time he was surround by large ropes that I imagine tug boats use to haul in a Cruise ship and what is referred to as 'Kettle Bells'....but no cups of tea were getting made (see what I did there...nope..OK...carry on) anywhooo....there was an assortment of upper body, with a sprinkling of lower limbs to occupy the Ethiopian sponsor child and it's meatier and well fed counterpart (That's the Right and left leg for those of you playing along at home).
After about my 4th set was when the Head fuck started (yes Dad...there was a need for such a strong descriptive word) ...((clearly you have also established I love a good 'pause' or as the writers of the world call them ... ellipses -carry on)) where were we....oh yeah...the head fuck! This is when you walk up to look at the chin up bar and you know you gotta haul ass by using upper body strength which in my case would make a 12 year old stamp collector look like a strong man.
So begins the head battle...typically the inner voices that tell you - 'Come on- You've got one more set...you can do this - I am woman, hear me roar'... except I'm a little more, lets say...unique...it went more like this:
Coach: *Sees me looking up at the bar with a great deal of anguish on my face and a left eye brow raise that would make "The Rock" look like he had botox and zero facial movement*"You are doing better then I thought you would...you actually haven't lost that much strength"
My inner voice: "He is just saying that to make you feel better, he is laughing at you right now with the same inner voice that is talking to you...and is he fucking kidding me??!! - how many more of these do I have to do ... OK...shut up and just do it..."
*Continues to stare at the chin up bar...pretty sure we've now used up enough rest time to have made a cup of tea and a muffin*
Coach: "Right - you ready?"
(Coach may as well be training Charlie Chaplin minus the cute walking stick dances...the suit...the 'stash' and well....OK...I'm nothing Like Charlie Chaplin - that was a stretch...I am just a mute that doesn't talk till I am half way through my triple shot morning coffee.)
My inner voice: "OK....it's the Fucking Catalina Wine Mixer"
I told you I was unique... why did this go through my head?? Because it was the only way I could express to myself that it was GO TIME and how 'fist pumpingly' excited I would be once I had knocked out a set of the worst facials known to man...weirder short-sharp exhales than a Bikram Yoga Class and more inner voice profanities than the inner monologue of someone who stubbed their toe in front of a group of toddlers.
So, session done and it's time to hit the ice-baths to give the poor Ethiopian sponsor child, who has no muscle let alone body fat to keep it warm in the Antarctic temperatures. I only went thigh deep and even my boobs were sitting above my shoulders for fear of being dunked into the icy waters - that's when you know shits getting real!
You know when you are getting into a pool and for some reason or other, I don't know whether we develop the odd concept during our development months in the womb - cause everybody does it - but... you take this giant breath in as if even the oxygen in your lungs is saying 'Bitch Please!! I AIN'T getting in there!!'.
Anyways, lets just say I was happier than a pig in mud when that was over...now, it has been about 3 months since I have done a proper upper body session like that...and the lactic acid is starting to set in and I haven't even gotten to the pool fence...it's about to get awkward if I am any hope of getting out of here and hitting the showers, but I surprise my self...
My inner voice: "OK....it's the Fucking Catalina Wine Mixer"
NEKMINNIT..........BIC MAN NINJA (minus the pen)
This basically means I can't lift my hands above my elbows...so in order to turn this red faced, sweat drenched mess into a lady of the corporate world...I need to activate the middle proceedings by bringing my upper body down to the lower body.
Washing your hair entails using the wall to rest your elbows and instead of moving your hands around to get the shampoo frothing...you move your head around like a head banging teen at a Metallica concert.
The application of mascara is somewhat similar... again with the elbow placement this time on the sink or bench... and you just plonk your face in front of the 'wand' and do those long slow blinks like a small puppy staring at your dinner plate.
Yeup...I know right - I've only been up for 3 hours and I am kicking goals like Andrew Johns when he was in form for the blues - you know why....cause it's the Fucking Catalina Wine Mixer!
Warm ReGarts, RG.
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