It being Monday morning and all, I brought three women in matching wigs and sequined dresses to my gym.

Oh yes, when I got those I Don't Wanna Haul My Butt To The Gym Blues, I turn to Diana Ross and the Supremes.

Oh be quiet.

The Supremes are a great '60's time capsule. All of us of a certain age immediately mimic Ms. Ross' halt gesture when "Stop In The Name of Love" comes on. We have to. It's A Rule.

Well maybe not ALL of us.

Oh, alright, so it's just me.

Oh be quiet.

I'm finally through the first cycle of my workout and it's time to ratchet things up more. Not that I haven't been steadily increasing the weights that I've been using, because I have. But now it's time to go on to a new set of exercises because my aging carcass has settled into a pattern and it's time to shake things up.

If there's one thing my experience at the gym last year taught me, it's the incredible ability of the body to become efficient at something. When you first start doing an exercise you spend a lot of energy, but as your body gets used to the motions it begins to figure out shortcuts. To get around this, every ten weeks or so you have to throw something completely new at it.

Completely new means lots and lots of new achey muscles.

This saps my will to live.

I debated putting the change off for another week, but that's only delaying the inevitable so I made my appointment with Jamin, the new trainer, for Friday.

He's threatening squats. I know that you share my horror over the prospect of that. Who amongst us can forget the massive buttal pain that comes from that diabolical exercise? Not only does it hurt, but as a bonus I look extremely pitiful when I do it because the exertion makes me turn pink and sweat a lot. Think Miss Piggy with sweat-matted hair.

Yes, THAT attractive.

Oh, and because it takes relatively pitiful amounts of weight to push me to that state, if any of the weightlifting guys happen to be around they exchange those "will ya look at the sissypants girl" expressions that just Drive Me Nuts.

Discomfort, unattractiveness AND humiliation.

And yes, I actually PAY money for this.

Oh be quiet.

--Marn

P.S.--If you're doing any of your Christmas shopping at Amazon this year, why not do it through Blue Sphere? Five per cent of what you spend will be donated by Amazon to Blue Sphere, and will be given to the Foster Parents Plan of Canada.

Yep, you get to make a large corporation cough up five per cent of its profits AND at no cost to yourself you get to help some poor kids out. What's not to love about that, eh?