long time no talk

So now that I am back in my childhood home and out of the Creighton lifestyle for a few months, I thought I’d take the time to write, finally. And what do I want to mention most to my readers (if I have any?!) ?? I want to talk about the gym. Yep.

I joined Lifestyle Fitness Club in Portland in order to keep up with training for crew to ensure I maintain and improve my fitness level for when I return to school. That’s all fine and good, but I realized yesterday what time I should NOT go to the gym. I went in at the 5’o’clock hour and it was swamped. But not with a healthy mixture of people working out. It was full of college men, businessmen, power-lifter men, bulky men, super skinny running men,….I think you get the picture. It was a LOT of men. And as much as I occasionally enjoy noticing a guy glancing in my direction, I felt like a fish in a bowl, trapped. Add in the fact that I was attempting to do my lifting circuit, and it was recipe for disaster – not to mention the surprised looks that I was going to lift with these guys.

I was not a happy camper. I was waiting by the benches for one to open up. Meanwhile, all of the men clustered in the area were huffing and puffing and grunting and sipping their muscle milk and protein smoothies (yes, while they were working out) and not really noticing that I was waiting. So when one opened up and I asked if I could rep in with them, one guy turns and says “Oh sorry babe, didn’t know you were waiting to lift with us.”

CHRISTINA WAS FUMING. But, to keep up my image as a lady, I decided to simply respond, “Well even though I could stand here to admire technique, yes, I actually was planning on lifting, thank you,” to which other men chuckled and then turned away, knowing they had been had. Oh well. I didn’t even have the intention of shutting him down completely, I made it lighthearted and laughed, but I wanted to get my point across that just because I am a girl, it doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t be lifting. I really wanted to tell them that muscle-milk via IV is not the way to a girl’s heart, or at least not mine. I held myself back, did my reps, and got out of there.

Men. Ugh.


About Christina Moore

Originally from Portland, Maine, I now live in Chicago and work with extraordinary nonprofit organizations to help them champion their individual causes. My heart is in the 207, and my feet are on the ground in the 312. Enjoy readmoore!
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