So I have a trainer now, which is hilarious for all kinds of reasons. Me, with a trainer! Who am I, Oprah? Do I get a cook next, or a lifestyle assistant? Who's responsible for these fucking soggy crudités, anyway? Also, there are at least three dead bugs in the reflecting pool. I cannot live like this.
I am betting that there are people out there who will assume the trainer was scheduled after one of my commenters railed against my enormous ass. (I had no idea my ass could make someone so angry. Not to mention my teeth! Let me at that weird freak who's like some kind of Pink Floyd cartoon! A giant walking ass with teeth coming out of it!) (Said commenter rocketed me back to seventh grade, when my group of "friends" sat me down and detailed everything that was wrong with my weird and misshapen body. Apparently I was problematic, and needed to be informed. No mention was made of my ass and teeth, strangely, but I do recall them being concerned with my overly pale complexion and need to grow breasts. I didn't go to the tanning salon or get implants, though, as I was twelve. Anyway, thanks, pals. As you can see I'm over it now. Sure, go ahead, friend me on Facebook! ) (However, if that commenter tries to friend me on Facebook, I will ignore her. I will ignore her so bad. Ah, delicious revenge.)
What was I—oh yes. My trainer! Actually I had scheduled time with the trainer after I joined the Y a few weeks ago and discovered just how cheap the personal training was, and also the one time I tried to use the weight machines I couldn't muster up the strength to adjust the seat (hmm, is the pin stuck? No it is not stuck I AM JUST WEAK AS AN ANEMIC KITTEN) and I was so horrified I scurried out of the room and back to the safety of the elliptical machines. I know how to use those things! You just put your feet on them and don't get distracted and fall off. Simple!
I may have fallen off a couple of times.
I told my trainer--whom I shall call Kevin, for that is his name—that my goal is to get strong. Freaky strong. "I want muscles, Kevin," I told him. "Big ones. Of course I know this isn't going to really happen, because I have the bone structure of a sparrow. But still, you get my point."
"I have never heard that before from any woman," said Kevin.
"Look," I told him. "My mom is in her seventies and can beat me at arm wrestling. She often does, for the amusement of her friends. This cannot continue."
Kevin nodded. "I see."
"Sometimes I arm wrestle with my son and I pretend to let him win, but sometimes I am not pretending. Seriously."
I waggled my tricep flab at him, and he had this weird coughing fit.
"Osteoporosis runs in my family, Kevin. My grandmother 's bones were like meringue. She sneezed and her face broke. KEVIN. DO NOT GIVE ME GIRLY EXERCISES WITH THREE-POUND WEIGHTS, DO YOU HEAR ME."
He heard me. Now I am walking funny, and I cry when I put on a shirt. But it's worth it, damn it. The next time my mom challenges me to a match, I am going to break her. (Not literally. The osteoporosis is from my dad's side.)




Ha ha ha ha !
This was great. You get your money's worth out of Kevin and whoop some old broads at arm wrestling.
Posted by: Meredith Viprino | August 04, 2009 at 01:16 PM
Someone was mean about your ass and teeth? Oh, for pity's sake -- GROW UP, INTERNET! This isn't Middle School.
For the record, Alice, your teeth are lovely -- can't speak about the ass, as I have never actually seen it. And your writing talent more than makes up for anything else that may be an issue.
Good luck with the training ... we'll be waiting to hear who wins the Thanksgiving arm wrestling grudge match.
Posted by: carrie | August 04, 2009 at 01:21 PM
Alice, you are my very favourite. <3!
Posted by: heatherann | August 04, 2009 at 01:27 PM
Carrie, I'm a grotesque. We all know that, you can stop pretending.
Posted by: Alice | August 04, 2009 at 01:29 PM
All I can picture is Rocky with your face superimposed on it.
Which would help if I knew what you looked like.
Posted by: Aunt Becky | August 04, 2009 at 01:33 PM
I think you and I might have had the same circle of friends in 7th grade. Heidi and Cyndy? Remember them? They must have refined their style by the time they got to you... I got a petition, drafted by them and detailing all my flaws, and signed by my whole science class.
But I'm completely over it now. Completely.
Posted by: expateek | August 04, 2009 at 01:33 PM
Can I recommend "The New Rules of Lifting for Women"? I also have the bone structure of a sparrow, but this book has me lifting free weights and I look healthier now:
http://tinyurl.com/lflwum
Posted by: Candace | August 04, 2009 at 01:41 PM
I could use a Kevin. I got done in by a weedeater this weekend.
Also, I've always had a bit of a crush on you, Alice. No lie. I think the main reason I started watching Momversation (I'm single, no kids) is so that I could ogle you for a few minutes. But don't worry. I know you're not a piece of meat. I would also ogle MRI scans of your sexy brain if I ever had the chance. Does that make me creepy? I don't know.
Posted by: Lauren | August 04, 2009 at 01:43 PM
Which, I'm not trying to imply that you don't look healthy already. I'm just really happy about lifting weights.
Posted by: Candace | August 04, 2009 at 01:43 PM
Thanks, Candace! I didn't think you were implying anything (sob), and this is more about improving how I feel, anyway.
And hello, Lauren. Rowr. I happen to have MRI scans of my brains. They're pretty unsexy, I must tell you.
Posted by: Alice | August 04, 2009 at 01:50 PM
Well, I *did* take my shiny, white self to a tanning bed in middle school when everyone was mocking my whiteness...and I got blisters and burns all over after 7 minutes of the allotted 25 minute bake-time. So, that was the end of that. (I ended up being white with a bazillion highly-contrasting freckles all over. Niiiiice).
I also stuffed my bra with toilet paper after being mocked for my flatness...until someone saw the blue-flowered toilet paper poking out from my v-neck shirt and told everybody.
Sigh.
High-five to you and the working out thing!
Posted by: Jadine | August 04, 2009 at 01:51 PM
I've wanted Linda Hamilton arms ever since Terminator 2 hit the screens. I'd probably look more like Ahnold w/the combination of big boobs and strong arms. *sigh* Oh, well. Good luck w/Kevin!
Posted by: tomncristy | August 04, 2009 at 01:53 PM
After I recover from my shoulder surgery I'm definitely checking out the YMCA - I could stand to lost a pound or 50 & I discovered while we were moving recently that I have no upper body strength anymore. It really does go away if you don't feed it!
Posted by: Danabug | August 04, 2009 at 01:54 PM
I recently decided to get a trainer too, and it is also VERY unlike me. Let us develop muscles together!
Posted by: Erin | August 04, 2009 at 01:57 PM
I can't help it. I'm still laughing at "she sneezed and her face broke."
Posted by: Mrs Chaos | August 04, 2009 at 02:00 PM
I just arm-wrestled my cat and LOST. I really didn't appreciate his victory dance.
Posted by: Dory | August 04, 2009 at 02:01 PM
Good luck with the weights! I know you will rock out and have AMAZING arms and bones and all. My mom is sixty-jflajrt and she has a trainer and looks AWESOME. She went from not being able to pick up a gallon of milk to wearing sleeveless tops.
And I saw that mean comment and almost verbally kicked her ass on your behalf but decided I would be the bigger person and let you bask in all the other nice comments! I hope that was OK. I didn't want to stoop to meanie's level.
Not having money for the gym, I attempt to kick my own butt. I'd really love a Kevin to do it for me....
Posted by: die Frau | August 04, 2009 at 02:02 PM
Congrats on your new physical challenge! I can definitely relate to your post, and I might steal some of your lines when describing my physique. I started lifting weights a few months ago with the help of my husband who builds muscle just by looking at a pair of weights. Don't worry - the first few times you lift are the most painful. It will go away and you'll be able to be able to take on ANYONE in arm wrestling, including my husband!
Posted by: Laura | August 04, 2009 at 02:08 PM
OMG, Alice, you just launched me out of my LookyDaddy Poofed Funk. Thanks for the "Whom I shall call Kevin - for that is his name" awesomeness.
BTW, I'm totally in the market for a new best friend. And someone to stay with in Brooklyn who isn't my uber-superior sister-in-law. I think once you've mastered the heavy lifting thing, you'll be perfect. Although I'd miss the triceps-waggling entertainment factor.
Going back to re-read, laugh and consider it my ab workout.
Posted by: Shnerfle | August 04, 2009 at 02:09 PM
("Steal lines" as in "use in conversation with friends" NOT "use on my own blog or creative space and claim them as my own.)
Posted by: Laura | August 04, 2009 at 02:10 PM
You crack my ass up, Alice. Right up.
Maybe I have osteoporosis of my ass?
Posted by: Heather | August 04, 2009 at 02:27 PM
I also have a bit of a (totally non-creepy) crush on you and think you are exceptionally lovely, with beautiful teeth.
Even if your teeth might lose an arm-wrestling contest with a sparrow. Or something.
The MRI brain scan thing is a great idea -- I think they're neat, personally. I have tons and tons of them (I get a copy on a disc every time I have one, which is oftener than one might hope) and sometimes I look at them just for fun. It's like a weird galaxy in there.
Posted by: Miss B | August 04, 2009 at 02:37 PM
Now you've just got to work on your One Nasty Beyotch demeanor, so you'll only have to use those muscles to intimidate rather than bust skulls.
Posted by: Erin @ Fierce Beagle | August 04, 2009 at 02:40 PM
Haha ha! You are so funny, Alice!! I hope you get your big muscles, or at least really strong ones.
Posted by: Sarah | August 04, 2009 at 02:40 PM
You know what they say-- Better to have a big ass than BE a big ass.
Can you tell that I was popular in jr. high? I was, in a kind of, avoid me like the plague way.
Really.
Big ass, small ass- funny! And that's the important part!
Posted by: Helen | August 04, 2009 at 02:40 PM
First of all, I just can't believe how mean people can be. Why would any one leave a comment like that is beyond me.
Secondly...good for you! I like that your getting in shape because you want to be strong and have healthy bones.
Posted by: Cindy | August 04, 2009 at 03:01 PM
Absolutely, delectably hilarious. I wish your silliness and self-awareness were contagious through the computer screen. I hope we hear more about your life avec trainer. Funny because I just wrote a post today about how after several years of working out with a trainer like crazy, I stopped cold turkey when I had my first child (and am now oddly and happily 15lb lighter. Go figure). But I think I was doing it for all the wrong reasons. Your motivations - to be strong and healthy - are wonderful. Not bad that it is ripe material for story-telling. Thank you for your humility and humor! I am new to the bloggy wilderness and hope one day to evince half your wit and wisdom about life.
Signed,
An Insecure Ivy Leaguer
Posted by: Aidan Donnelley Rowley | August 04, 2009 at 03:04 PM
Kevin is the name of the tall, multicoloured bird in Up http://preview.tinyurl.com/cqgau7
I now have a picture of you pumping iron while a large bird squawks in your face.
Posted by: no plot | August 04, 2009 at 03:33 PM
LOL! :D Can Kevin come whip my fat butt into shape?!
Posted by: Nicole | August 04, 2009 at 03:38 PM
Oh my, that was delightful. Unfortunately I have been doing crunches, and the laughter was a bit painful.
Also, thank you to the commenter who painted the mental image of you working out with the bird from Up. Haaaa. hah.
Posted by: Susie | August 04, 2009 at 04:11 PM
LOL! Okay, you should live here and come to my gym and let me train you. We don't do wimpy stuff, then again, we are a little more than the Y. Damn the Y always running all the other gyms out of business!
Have fun training girl.
Wait, I have an idea, you get trained by the Y and I'll train your grandma and in 6 weeks you two see who wins at arm wrestling. Yessss!
Posted by: Holly Strebel | August 04, 2009 at 04:32 PM
How do we even know what your ass looks like? Have I been missing some secret postings? I've never noticed a problem with your teeth, although of course now I'll be looking extra hard.
I've found that my self-esteem is helped by not using mirrors or having too many pictures of myself taken. When I see documentation like that, it really messes up the very lovely image I have inside my head.
Posted by: Jen | August 04, 2009 at 04:35 PM
just promise you'll stop before you get scary madonna-arms...
and thanks for reminding me to start doing my morning sit-ups again. vacation is officially over.
Posted by: beyond | August 04, 2009 at 04:58 PM
I can't believe so many of us had the same experience in seventh grade. In my case, it was a lone boy who loudly listed my flaws from my hair (frizzy) through my nose (crooked) to my feet (big). Amazing what we put up with as pre-teens. Now, I would punch him by the time he got to my chest (flat).
Naturally, I can remember this incident precisely but not a thing about the class in which it occurred.
Posted by: Susan | August 04, 2009 at 06:34 PM
The New Rules of Lifting for Woman
(Lift like a man, look like a goddess.)
You must buy this book. It is great, and I'm fairly sure you'd love it. Go on Alice, I dare ya!
(from a petite weight lifting woman who loves lifting, and no, I'm not scary looking at all)
_______
http://www.amazon.com/New-Rules-Lifting-Women-Goddess/dp/1583333398
Posted by: Tamara | August 04, 2009 at 06:54 PM
i don't have anything clever to say. i just want to let you know that you are really funny and i enjoy reading what you write.thanks for the pick me up!
Posted by: jessica | August 04, 2009 at 07:26 PM
I'm new here and this post made me laugh and now everyone at work is looking at me funny. Thanks, Alice!
Posted by: Stephanie | August 04, 2009 at 07:34 PM
Sign me up as having the awful experience of your middle school "friends" sit you down during lunch and take turns listing all your faults, physical and personality-wise. Then stopped talking to me for the rest of the school year. Yeah. Sure. Over it.
Posted by: Ann Marie | August 04, 2009 at 07:37 PM
Way to go getting a trainer, that is so much more motivated than I can ever seem to get.
And poo poo on anyone who would comment on your body, when that is really not what the blog is about. I guess they are jealous and have to find something that they can pick on you for. Me likes you just as you are :)
Posted by: Beth in SF | August 04, 2009 at 08:31 PM
Holy Cow! You are so hilarious. I almost cried and peed my pants at the same time trying not to laugh outloud at work (in cubicle land where you can hear a paperclip hit the carpet 5 cubes down). I honestly was mistified when you said someone made mean comments about you. I can't say as I've ever noticed your teeth (so I'm guessing they must not stand out since I watch every momversation) and I don't believe I've seen your ass, but find it hard to believe it would be worthy of anything but positive comments. I actually have always admired your fair skin and thought you looked very aristocratic.
Ignore the assholes who have nothing better to do than leave negative comments.
Posted by: Jennifer Mefford | August 04, 2009 at 09:14 PM
Great post! Thank you.
Posted by: mk | August 04, 2009 at 09:30 PM
You are so great. Our Y sucks. Get big and strong,like bull, Alice!
Posted by: Cincy | August 04, 2009 at 09:33 PM
I have a personal trainer. Its the Wii Fit trainer lady and to be honest with you, she's kind of bitchy. I'm thinking of switching over to the Wii Fit guy trainer. Maybe he'll have some nicer things to say. My current Wii Bitch says things like, "Oh! Haven't seen you in a while, Fatty..."
(The "fatty" part is implied in her tone.)
Posted by: Katie | August 04, 2009 at 10:19 PM
My trainer is Jillian Michaels (via her DVD workouts). I love her hard-ass attitude. During one particularly grueling part of the workout she declares, rather matter-of-factly, "I want you to feel like you're going to die." Inspiring, right?
Good luck with Kevin. I'm sure he'll have you rocking the arm wrestling circuit in no time. Maybe you can even start arm wrestling professionally. Think Sly Stallone in that cheesy 80's movie "Over the Top."
Posted by: Karen Dietrich | August 04, 2009 at 10:43 PM
The only way I survive Kevins is with long hot baths with cups of epsom salts and apple cider vinegar. Kevins are mean and evil for the first 3-4 sessions, and then they suddenly morph into something more livable, like the annoying neighbor who is always in your business. But no longer mean and evil.
Posted by: Lynn @ human, being | August 04, 2009 at 11:31 PM
I was surprised to read about the comments and the jr. high experience since I just started _Odd Girl Out_ which is about some of those issues. Glad you are able to find the funny side of it - and I hope you get very strong.
Posted by: Sarah | August 05, 2009 at 03:39 AM
@Karen, I thought I was the only one who remembered that Stallone movie....
Posted by: die Frau | August 05, 2009 at 09:35 AM
Alice, you make me smile on Wednesday morning when I have no coffee in the house and kidcrap strewn over every surface of my downstairs. That is POWER, woman.
Posted by: kim | August 05, 2009 at 10:01 AM
My friends and I did that in elementary school. All was going well until one friend brought up physical traits we couldn't change. Strangely, we all had no problem pointing out the "changeable" parts of each other. I thought we had a dysfunctional friendship, but apparently we were right on track for girls of 11.
And good on you for the trainer! But yes, stay away from Madonna's freaky arms. No one likes that.
Posted by: dani | August 05, 2009 at 10:16 AM
Thanks to you and your lovely readers, I now get to picture your tricep flab waggling in the face of the bird from "UP," while a kitten kicks your ass. That is way funnier than anything that I can come up with on my own!
Thanks for the entertainment! (And though I didn't have friends who listed my faults, I had one boyfriend who did--on more than one occasion. Why did I stick around to hear them again? Because I was 13. God, I hope my daughter just skips that entire part of her life. Or maybe I can just sleep through it.)
Posted by: Kendra | August 05, 2009 at 10:27 AM