Thighs causing friction?

Exercise has never been on the top of my to-do-list. Actually, the idea of exercise has rarely entered my mind at all since I met my P.E. requirements in high school—and that was quite a while ago. A new fitness center opened near me a couple weeks ago. I kept hearing all these great things about it “blah, blah, blah…2 hours per day of childcare…blah blah” What?! Wait did I hear correctly- 2 hours away from my whiny, fit throwing kiddos? Every day? Where do I sign up? As it turns out, you must stay at the fitness center to enjoy the benefit of someone else chasing your kids around. So my new daily routine includes dropping my children off with complete strangers while I reacquaint myself with physical exercise.

This movement is a whole different genre from what my body is accustomed to. Instead of stooping down to clean a poopy booty I am stooping down to do squats and I am finding muscles that I do not know I had.

When I first walked into the cardio room I felt a little intimidated. Everybody else was expertly maneuvering their machines, clearly pros, and here I stood, the rookie, wondering “how in the hell do I even get this treadmill to turn on?” Notice I picked the treadmill because it did not seem as foreign to me as some of the other torture devices machines that were lined up. But this treadmill had more options than my microwave. Is there an instruction manual? After some careful consideration I pushed a few random buttons and got it started. I was speed walking with the best of them and feeling a little proud. Then I caught a glace of myself in the mirror.

First of all, what are the mirrors for? Possibly for the pretty people to watch themselves sweat or a clever way for guys to peek at hot chick a few machines away. The mirrors are definitely not for people like me. All I saw were my black shorts that had crept up between my fat white thighs--because said fat white thighs rub together when I walk. I was embarrassed, mortified! Obviously I need to be here to work off the excessive roundness my body has accumulated after 4 kids but, being here like this—exposed—allowing others to see the blubber I normally keep concealed under clothing was a horrible feeling.

The initial shock of seeing lumpy thighs in clear view of everyone did fade away, but I vow to only stand on machines where I cannot see myself. I must return everyday to work out; it is my only escape from the little creatures that call me mommy and in the end maybe I will be able to stand in view of a mirror and not cringe…maybe?