From time to time I catch a glimpse of my butt in a random mirror and think, “Hmm, I should work out.” Fortunately, I’m a fundamentally lazy person, so my workout mainly consists of thinking about working out. If you’re wondering—thinking about working out is not an effective way to shrink the size of your butt. Hey, never say I don’t add knowledge to the South Valley with this column, OK?
Anyway last January, I decided to start actually working out. This is my workout timeline, which has taken me from a really, really big rear to … a really, really big rear.
January 2014. Look at butt in mirror. Realize that the holidays were not kind to my behind. Start thinking about working out. Spend many, many hours eating chips and wondering what type of exercise to do.
Mid-January. After long days of looking at my butt while snacking on chips (hey, I never said I wasn’t shallow), I decide on two possible exercises: an exercise bike or walking Mantelli. Because Mantelli is a notoriously difficult hill that many crazy Gilroyans walk every single day, I decide to purchase an exercise bike. Look, I’ve walked Mantelli before. And each time I thought I’d die of a heart attack 1/3 of the way up.
February 2014. Purchase exercise bike. Drag it from Walmart to the car, then from the car to the entryway of my home. Congratulate myself on my workout by eating chips.
Mid-February. Drag exercise box into family room. Stare at it while eating chips and watching “Real Housewives.”
End of February 2014. Ask Harry to take bike upstairs and put it together.
March 2014. Ask Harry to take bike upstairs and put it together.
Mid-March. Ask Harry to take bike upstairs and put it together.
End of March. Harry takes exercise bike upstairs and dumps the box in our room with a wave of the hand and a vague “I’ll do this in a few.” A few what? Months? Years? Millenniums?
April 2014. Remove exercise bike from box. Check for missing parts. Very disappointed that there are no missing parts so I may not be able to put off putting the bike together and actually riding it. Eat more chips and watch “Million Dollar Listing” as I decide what to do.
May 2014. Consider walking Mantelli. Pay life insurance premium, get exercise clothes on and then chicken out. Send Harry a text demanding that the bike be put together.
June 2014. Put the dang bike together myself. Ride for two minutes before the thingy mcbob that holds my feet on the pedal falls off, causing me to drop my bag of chips on the carpet. What? If you eat chips during a workout, the calories don’t count. Sheesh. Do I have to tell you everything?
Mid-June. Harry puts exercise bike together. I ride like the wind. Yeah, not really. But I ride. And sometimes I even put the chips down.
July 2014. More riding. Less chips. Smaller butt. I mean, not noticeably smaller to the average person—but I see a difference. Or I might need new glasses. Tough to tell.
August 2014. Get too busy to ride bike. Not too busy to eat chips though.
End of August. Can’t find the exercise bike—but I suspect that it’s somewhere under a mound of clothing. Too busy eating chips to figure this out.
September 2014. A friend decides I need to walk with her. She is in excellent shape. I am shaped like a person who eats too many potato chips. She regularly drags me around the block, even though I cannot beat her lazy little pug in a race. I think I will die.
Mid-September. My friend announces that my goal should be to walk Mantelli. I am too winded from the slight incline we are walking to protest, but I do know one thing. I really need to find that exercise bike.
