Looking Good while Working to Look Better -- Reebok

This year has been the year of the closet clean-out. I've been accused of holding on to clothes well past their expiration date. No where in my closet is this more true than with my gym clothes. Until about 2 months ago, I had tank tops and shorts from high school. Yes, HIGH SCHOOL. As in, *cough cough choke cough cough* years ago. I also had workout pants from college, and sports bras from law school. In a word? My shithangs were OLD.

Shopping is a great motivator, and so for the winter months, my carrot for going to the gym was shopping for new clothes. But since I didn't want to buy clothes which wouldn't fit in just a couple weeks (assuming I stick to diet and exercise plans), my only real option was to purchase workout clothes. Fine by me, because workout clothes have a tendency to be full of bright happy colors, and often comfy materials. Given that I haven't really bought any new clothes in eons* I wasn't sure which brands to start with. By now, everyone has some form of dri-fit** fabric, so I could leave the confines of Nike. And then, there is the often-imitated, often-hated brand Lululemon. Known the world over for their butt-enhancing pants. What's a girl to do?

I'll tell you what this girl did. I headed straight to TJMaxx and Macy's (during a "one-day"/"lowest-prices-of-the-season" sale). And then I went to Lululemon to see what all the fuss was about. And then I posted on Facebook to get feedback from my friends. This? Is my attempt at product review.***

The first pair I tried was Reebok. Now, if I had to guess, I would say they were the Reebok Yoga Capri. But given that this was a TJMaxx purchase, the specific style wasn't readily apparent. Pros? They are purple. I get so tired of wearing black and grey every darn day. Second? They have a wide waistband which is part of what gives Lululemon pants the illusion of bestowing booty-less women everywhere with bubble butts (more on that in a different post). Last, they stay put around the calf.

However, the Reeboks get an overall fail from the kid. I wore them through both a low-impact cardio workout and a weightlifting workout. Through both, the waistband rolled down and refused to stay put. Kinda like Spanx, only less likely to cut off your air supply. And, despite being a pain in the neck to put on because they are so tight, they failed to hug my pear-shaped curves for the duration of the workout. I'm pretty sure that at least 10% of the calories I burned were from continuously trying to avoid indecent exposure.

Now, if you're not pear shaped, or just doing an arm day, then these pants may work for you. For the price, they're workable -- but definitely not the hardest working pants out there.

The verdict? Pretty, but dumb.




*To be fair, I did get an awesome-sauce birthday present from the Youngblood which included all kinds of tops and bottoms for the gym. I wasn't a total failure

**Dri-fit is Nike; Climacool is Adidas; PlayDry is Reebok, and some just call it like it is: "moisture wicking".

***Notice I didn't say it was a triumphant return to blogging. Because I need my life to get a LOT more interesting before any return can be deemed triumphant.

Civil War

My body and my brain are currently in a civil war. My brain is adamantly opposed to weighing more than I did when I reached my end goal in 2011. (We'll call this A#). On the other hand, my body is totally comfortable at my current weight. (We'll call this B#). Now, the difference between A# and B# is literally less than 10 lbs. But, it's a difference that I can see. Ostensibly, it's a difference others can see. Now, don't get it twisted, I always look good. I choose my wardrobe changes carefully, to reflect whatever shape I'm trying to get the world to see. So, it's really not about self-esteem. But, it is a little bit about what others think.

I've spent umpteen amount of time pointing out the differences between genders regarding the definition of beauty. (Ditto for the differences between cultures). But, here's a question...which side of the line do you choose when you're setting a goal? Consistently, whenever I've been in the general vicinity of A#, I've felt super hot (and more importantly, strong and healthy). But, whenever I'm in the vicinity of B#, the men in my life smile a little bit bigger, and make more ridiculous comments. (My favorite comment of all time? When the Titan told me the other day that last summer I was getting too little, was losing my thickness. He said, and I quote "some of those white girls around the gym had you...and we just can't have that during Black History Month." PAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.) Moreover, am I the only person who has this internal debate?

At the end of the day, it's about whatever makes YOU happy. You're the one putting in the work, so you might as well go for what you find sexy (as long as it isn't unhealthy, obvies). But, as the Titan once told me, be prepared for your significant other to "express his opinion." HA. I guess that's ok...since I have sooooo many things to say about his clothes...shoes...cologne...choice of cocktail...extracurriculars...friends... :}.

Gym observations

Yesterday, I was at the gym, doing some pre-repenting for caloric sins I'd intentionally be committing a few hours later. While I was doing some heavy lifting, I saw Adonis. So, it's the world's worst kept secret that I am a little shallow when it comes to men.* I've admired my share of lovely men. Well, yesterday, the bar was raised. While doing a quick set of 3 reps of some lovely curls, flys, and squats, I saw a guy walk by. Obviously...I was in the weight room so it was bound to be filled with the boys. But, a young man walked by in red shorts and a sleeveless shirt. At first, I thought the chosen workout outfit was ridiculous. He was one of these guys that not only cuts the sleeves off, but also cuts 1/3rd of the shirt off on each side, such that not only are his sleeves out, but so is his entire side. This, normally, is totally ridiculous. This time, it was totally acceptable. He was cut like a picture out of Men's Health. Then, he was the color of brown sugar melted with butter. Finally, he had a serious John Legend 5 o'clock shadow happening. He had a strong jaw, and great upper body muscles. I couldn't really tell from where I was standing, but I bet he had long thick lashes to go with expressive eyes and a kissable mouth. :). The reason I couldn't see his eyes wasn't for lack of trying though. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he saw me staring. I was shamelessly watching him in the mirror, looking at him when he walked past, following him with my eyes...I had a serious creepy stalker vibe and there was nothing I could do about it. And then, sadly, his workout was over before mine. So, he walked away and disappeared in the mist. It was sad; but it was also motivation for me to go to the gym every day -- just in case he's there again.

Despite disappearing, I was left in my reverie. He was gone, but his memory remained, and made me so very happy. But then, my reverie was interrupted. Why? Well, I'm glad you asked. I was headed to the locker room to exchange my weight-lifting gloves for my headphones (it was cardio time, baby!!!), and what did I see? Some serious foolishness that pushed the image of Adonis right out of my head. On my way, I passed a 20 year old hussy. Ok, I don't know that she was 20, necessarily. But she was a rail-thin bitch in white yoga pants, and a white sports bra. How do I know what color her sports bra was? Because this skinny bitch had on a turquoise lace crop top over it. Who the hell works out in lingerie?! Girls that mistake the gym for a daytime club scene, that's who. The sad thing is? My gym just ain't that kind of health club. Girls don't walk around in full make up, and I haven't seen nary a sequins in the Zumba classes. So please, Ms. Hussy, take your narrow-hussy-behind out of my gym before Adonis sees you. Because if you so much as give him side-eye so help me I will choke-a-bitch...and not feel bad about it. You got me? Good. Glad we have an understanding.

Adonis? I'm comin' for you baby. Just let me know your weekly workout schedule. Shoot. We already have so much in common ;)


*And when I say a little shallow, I mean totally. But can I help it if the boys are so pretty to look at!?

Emotions at the gym

Working out can be an emotional experience.  On Saturday, in an effort to pre-empt upcoming weekend caloric sins, I headed to the gym.  I woke up at the crack of dawn (aka 8am) to head to a cardio kickboxing class.  (Cardio kickboxing is the class' government name.  But Cardio kick-your-ass-twice is the street name).  There was a substitute teacher when I got there, and I noticed it was a a teacher that just works my last nerve.  Everytime she teaches a class, she spends the first 5-8 minutes talking.  She's got somewhat of a high voice, and does all this fake humble ish.  Like, "you know when there's a sub, you have to have an open mind."  PFFT.  Shut up.  Anyway, after chattering about goodness knows what, she asked the class if we wanted her to go over the proper form for the kicks and punches.  One rather type-A mother who was desperately trying to fit in her workout before returning to a life of playdates and bouncy castles (you know, I imagine), said with a healthy amount of snark "no, just start class."  Now, while I agreed with mommy dearest in principle, I thought it was ill-advised for her to make a comment to a cardio teacher.  Doesn't she know how it works?  If you imply that the teacher isn't working you hard enough, that teacher uses your implication as license to attempt homicide by cardio.  And, I had already been a victim of that particular crime earlier this week.

Anyway, true to form, Kelly the kickboxer started class, and proceeded to vicitimize us immediately.  Even the warm-up was mind-boggling. She counted every thing on the half count, and a lot of jumping was involved.  I didn't really mind that, though.  You know what my real problem is with this chick?  She was wearing at least 2 if not 3 bras.  Her rack was ginormous, and required a lot of suspension and balance in her hardware.  She was otherwise extremely toned -- she could've been a wrestler in another life.  Suffice it to say that you would not want to meet her in a dark alley when she was pre-menstrual.  Yeah, I said it.  During the workout, as my muscles slowly began to fill with lactic acid, I started to wonder if my mounting rage was because she had the biggest chest I've ever seen on a fitness instructor, or because I felt like I was cheated out of 10 minutes of class, or if I was just bitter because my skin itched and my lungs were on the verge of explosion.  Anyway, at the end of the day, it was very mentally exhausting.

As though my world isn't bizarre enough; I am continuing along my journey through past relationships.  As I mentioned before, the Titan really never goes away.  We still talk a lot, and we sometimes workout at the same gym.  For the most part, our relationship doesn't usually extend beyond weekday chats.  But today, as I was completing a day of errands and couponing, I decided I was craving deep dish pizza.  Having been well-trained by WW, I knew that I would have to do something to earn it.  Fortunately, at the moment I was having the craving, I was also driving past my gym.  Which made me think; if there is anyone that I can count on to fulfill a pizza fantasy after working out, it's the Titan.  He is a complete gym rat, but also a pizza fanatic.  So, I proceeded to call him and tell him that he should come by the gym, and then split a pizza with me.  Given his aversion to impulse, I figured he'd say no.  But, surprise surprise, he was down!  With one caveat, we had to walk to the gym. 

It wasn't the distance of the walk, it's maybe 4 blocks, (albeit uphill), but not far.  But the thing about that walk, is that it involves walking under an overpass, which houses a place for Hipsters of Tomorrow to meet up.  Tomorrow's hipsters are today's skaters.  Managing to sag jeans that are 2 sizes too small, find a way to wear plaid and flannel no matter the temperature, and the ubiquitous knit hat is, well, ubiquitous.  With all the brooding and teenage flirting going on, it's difficult to watch.  That, AND, it's the official pigeon port o' potty of the northwest side.  Seriously, I can't take it.  But, I wanted my deep dish pizza...so walk we would.  Naturally, the Titan picks one of the hottest days of the year to make this walk...and then he proceeds to complain that the a/c is too cold once we reach the gym.  *Note:  never NEVER walk in 90 degree weather with a man from Memphis. 

While we were at the gym, (and he had the audacity to lift hundreds of pounds right in front of me.  Tease), I started to notice something.  That boy knew a lot of the other gym rats that were there today, including the girl who apparently got her gym locations mixed up.  Whereas I was wearing the first pair of workout capris and bright yellow Nike dri fit, with a faded bandana, this chick had on an outfit straight outta Hoochie's Workout Wear.  While standing on a bosu (flat-side down -- punk), she did cute little squats in front of a mirrored corner.  She was wearing black bootcut stretch pants, with lime green racing stripes which went up the leg and crossed (rather conveniently) at the hip and around the back.  Drawing your eye to her nonexistent booty.  To match -- and I do mean match -- she had on a lime green zebra striped tank top.  Fitted, of course.  But, the piece de resistance was...wait for it... an Ed Hardy hat.  Who the hell wears an Ed Hardy hat to the gym?  After finishing her bosu squats, she made a beeline for the Titan.  The entire time I'd been up there, I'm pretty sure he was purposefully avoiding eye contact with me (or...he was watching his form in the mirror.  Whatever).  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them talking, and I KNOW he was smiling and whatnot.  And she was all "hi, aren't I cute and adorable?!!"  ***  And then, just before I'd worked myself in a tizzy, he brought her over to meet me.  What the devil?!  But I have been lifting!  And I forgot my gloves, so I look like a total amateur!! and I'm sweaty!!  Dammit! 

Not surprisingly, she had a little bit of attitude.  But meh.  Whatever.  I didn't tell her he and I used to date -- that's on him to tell her if that's the type of relationship they got.  The fun part for me?  Knowing that I was leaving with him, and all she could do was huff.  HA.  Ok, not really.  Truth be told, she did give me a little bit of a cold shoulder, but I didn't give her any hint that he and I came together or were planning to leave together.  I didn't give any hint that I knew him any better than she did, because really?  I'm not one to fight over a guy.  He's either mine, or he's not.  And when it comes to an ex?  He's not.  So, meh.  No matter the gender though, it's still a bit awkward to meet someone in a gym...when you're all sweaty and gross and whatnot. 

That said, the workout and extra mile of walking was totally worth it for the pizza.  Yummy!  While we were eating, the Titan gave me some insight into dating in 2011 from the male perspective.  I opined that men don't court women anymore.  He said that lots of guys don't feel they should have to court a woman, since so many of them are dating 2 and 3 guys.  Guys don't want to go all in, just to find out he's one of a few guys this chick is seeing.  I proceeded to roll my eyes.  Sounded like an excuse to put forth the least amount of effort necessary in order to get a piece -- but maybe that's just the cynic in me.


***Ok really?  I don't actually know what they were saying or doing.  This is totally what I heard in my head.