Tuesday, April 17, 2012

I Maybe Did

When you're working with people, literally half your age (in the case of one 17 year old Australian American more than), one thought crawls into your head and circles around and around until you want to stab yourself in the eye with a box cutter: I'm too old for this shit.

And I am. Though, I can't say it was completely Fucking Capri's fault.

Cut to a week ago:

In my ongoing obsession with BodyRock.Tv, I have been absolutely drooooooling over one particular piece of equipment featured in the workouts (no, not the new host, Lisa Marie. A sexy, sweet Zuzanna she is not). It's an Ugi Ball. A ridiculous weighted, mush ball in hot pink. Shut up. It has a zipper, it's bulbous and beautiful and I am obsessed. Sadly, Ugi and I shall never be together thanks to the stupid thing costing nearly 200 bucks. Like I'm going to spend that much on a mushy ball? Never! Not in this lifetime!

Being perennially poor, I've learned to be resourceful, so when my plan to build one out of a dumbell, a few towels and about 50 yards of duct tape didn't quite pan out, I found a substitute. It wasn't quite Ugi, being much smaller and far less zippery and boring blue, but it would do and at 30 bucks, I was super excited to add it to my BodyRock experience. So one day after work, I decided to go to the sporting good's store next door and buy one. Did I stop to consider that I had to cary the 10 lb mushy ball the 2 miles to my apartment because AweseomCool was super unawesome in his ability to afford us two cars and took our only car to work because his work is 'farther away' and 'it would take 2 hours for him to walk?' No. I did not.

Also, I did not think about my Fake Ugi when I got a call from said Un-Awesome Car-Hogger, "I broke the water filter. You might want to buy water on your way home."


So what else would I do but go buy bottled water from Whole Foods which was also conveniently next door?

As I strolled the aisles I started thinking (soooooo dangerous, I need to learn to stop doing that), "Well, I drink about a gallon of tea a day, plus we'll need some for cooking, plus we might want some for tomorrow too and look! This three gallon jug of distilled water is on sale! Yay!"

I left Whole Foods feeling I had made a bunch of right decisions that day. I mean come on, carrying a Fake Ugi and an awkward three gallon jug of water two miles? What could possibly go wrong!?

About ten steps out of the store, I realized what could go wrong: I was carrying about 30 extra pounds, awkwardly. Ten steps later I realized I had 1.99 miles left to carry said awkward 30 lbs. Ten steps later my arms wanted to fall off. Ten steps later my neck started hurting. Ten steps after that I realized I was a fucking moron and I wasn't even out of the Whole Foods parking lot yet.

Though I should have, I somehow could not bring myself to abandon my 4 dollar jug of water for the sake of, well, all my other body parts. And after a harrowing walk home in which I actually started wishing I would be approached by a kidnapper in a rape van because being kidnapped and murdered to death would be better than carrying my Fake Ugi and three gallon jug of on sale distilled water one step further, I stumbled through the door sweaty and exhausted.

Somehow I found the energy to design and carry out a workout starring my Fake Ugi. Joy.

The next day my back hurt.

A few days later, I was on shipment. Lots of bending, lifting, and many, many 'I'm too old for this shit' mumblings.

Then everything seemed to calm down, until last night. For some reason, bending to pick up a plastic hanger sent my lower back into hissy fit the likes of which I have never seen.

Last night I couldn't sleep because it pinched, burned, and stabbed pain all night. This morning I could barely crawl out of bed to lay on the floor with frozen broccoli pressed on my back.

(By the way, when suffering debilitating back pain, it is not wise to down four aspirin in quick succession if you're stomach is basically empty save for a gallon of tea, a banana, and watermelon. There will be vomit. Lots of it.)

By the grace of Zeus there was a Groupon this morning for chiropractic treatment for only 39 bucks! I went in. Everything was fine until that awkward moment when he thought I was committed to curing myself of my misalignment and not just taking advantage of a good deal. Some people just don't understand poor people. So, no, Sir, I will not be coming in twice a week at 70 bucks a pop and that thing I mumbled about 'having to check my work schedule before I make an appointment' was a complete lie.

I called and cancelled my shift tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. Might have to take permanent leave of dear old Fucking Capris. I suppose that would be OK, since having worked there, my closet has become as bulging as the disks in my back. Where I once had but two, I now own six pairs of jeans. Gross.

Someone please shoot me.


Blackchild said...

I only say "I'm too old for this shit" when I am jumping off of an exploding building with my racist,mysogynist,homophobic,anti-semetic partner or when I am arguing the merits of not treating their Bangladeshi houseboy like an actual slave.

Sarai said...

Ha ha - you maybe did what?! :D Did ya stretch much?

SuperFantabulous said...

'Bangladeshi houseboy/slave?!' Fuck Ugi! I want one of those instead. How much is shipping?