Roxy Hammond

Recently I have discovered that I am unable to look at myself in the mirror anymore. No, it’s not quite the vampire thing, but more like the mid-winter blues. The time of the year when my already non-existent tan has faded into a shade of ghost, and my body looks like a mother bear that binged, but then forgot to hibernate. Putting on my bikini right now is absolutely out of the question.

So after about a month of whining about how terrible I look, and thus feel, I’ve decided to do something about it. Aside from buying an athletic swimming suit in hopes of inspiring myself to swim laps, I’ve purchased a Billy Blanks Tae Bo DVD.

Boy, that was an experience.

Last Friday was my first encounter with Tae Bo. Sure, I dabbled in pilates and thought they were a tad challenging. But they pale in comparison to the 55 minutes of workout doom enforced by this Nazi of muscle.

Okay, so maybe I’m being a little dramatic. I will be the first one to tell you that I am a big wimp, especially when it comes to workouts. I can have the willpower of the gods in pretty much any other activity, but when it comes to moving and shaking, quite frankly, I’m idle.

Needless to say, when my genius willpower decided to subject me to the entire hour-long torturous regimen, I was a little bit winded.

Here’s a quick timeline:

Fifteen minutes into the video: yep, getting a little sweaty, kicking the air like a fool.

Twenty minutes: water break! Also known as an excuse to pause for a few minutes.

Thirty-five minutes: feeling the burn now! How does a person go about doing jumping jacks without disturbing the neighbors downstairs? You fake them.

Thirty-seven minutes: push-ups? After punching the air? Again?

Thirty-eight minutes: five pansy push-ups later, I’m panting like a dog and seeing spots in my eyes from fatigue. What was I thinking when I bought this DVD again?

Forty Minutes: only 10 minutes left. I think I see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Fifty-five minutes: turns out that light at the end of the tunnel was actually heaven, because I think I just died.

Once again, maybe I’m being a little bit dramatic. Maybe not. I’m sure all of you athletes or avid exercisers are calling me a pathetic wuss right now, and you know what? You’re absolutely right.

Three days later it finally doesn’t hurt to get in and out of chairs, or walk, or smile. But of course this means I will have to do it all over again now that I have no excuse not to.

This time I’ll drag my boyfriend along for the ride. Although he is in way better shape than I am, that does not mean he’s in shape. He, too, will feel the unabashed loathing of the energetic man ordering us to punch the air and then kick it up to double time. After all, misery loves company. My plan is to try this out for a month. They say it takes that long to form a habit. Working out everyday is definitely a habit I can afford to form. I mean, sooner or later, my midwinter blues will be over, and I certainly don’t want to be Mother Bear Roxy any longer.

#1.884256:303082223.jpg:roxyhammond_cj.jpg:Roxy Hammond, Sarcastic Cynicisms:Charlie Johnson