Well That Was…..Something

My absolute favorite thing to blog about is any time I make a complete and utter fool of myself. Luckily for all of us, I have such a story!

Last night I went to the gym. Weirdly, this is how many of my good, ridiculous, Jennifer-is-an-idiot stories begin.

The gym I go to is a sort of boot camp with instructor- led, daily classes. The class on this particular night used TRX bands, which are bands that hang from a bar near the ceiling and look like this:


They can be used for all kinds of upper body and lower body exercises. I actually enjoy using them, but they can be a little awkward at times, especially trying to get my feet in and out of them.


In case there was any question, the above images are NOT me. Just a stock photo.

So, back to last night. One of the exercises we were supposed to do involved putting one foot in both straps and doing a lunge. Like this:


Again… Not me.

I managed to gracefully get my foot in the bands, which was a small miracle. I even managed to perform the exercise quite gracefully. A large miracle.

And then. THEN! It was time to move on to another exercise. I pulled my right foot out of the band, but only one band came off. The other band was stuck to the bottom of my shoe. My left foot slipped out from under me, and before I could stop myself I started falling.

I was holding on to the TRX bands with my hands and my left foot flew up in the air and I started SWINGING on the band. And screeching! I was startled! I was screeching and swinging through the air on the band like Tarzan.


On second thought, Tarzan has good abs. I do not. I was more like a howler monkey. The sound that was emanating from my mouth was definitely just like a howler monkey.


Mind you, I was not alone in this class.  Oh no. It was pretty packed, actually. So, not only was I swinging through the air and screaming, I was also banging in to the people around me. I was virtually a wrecking ball.


I managed to extricate my foot from the band but I was laughing so hard I could hardly breathe. I finally looked around at the other people in the class who were all looking at me blankly.

“Are you okay?” one finally asked, very seriously.

“Um, yeah. I’m okay.”

Everyone went back to their business. I managed to finish my workout without further incident, but I had an awkward smile on my face as I tried not to burst out laughing at myself and my ridiculousness.


When I got to my car, I called my friend Kristin, who has been to the classes with me because I had to tell someone my story. Someone who would laugh, and not just stare at me like I’m a weirdo.

She didn’t answer, so I left a message on her voice mail. It basically sounded like this:

“Kristin! Oh my God! I have to tell you what happened tonight at the gym! So we were using the TRX bands, and I — LOUD GUFFAW– My foot got stuck and I –SNORTING– I was swinging on the band and screaming and I — no noise for a few seconds as I am laughing so hard no sound is coming out — And everyone just stared at me!”


She apparently got the gist of my obnoxious voice mail because she texted me later laughing at with me, as I knew she would. She praised me for being a good sport.

I don’t think I laughed at myself because I’m a good sport.  I think I laughed at myself because picturing a slightly overweight, grown-ass woman swinging around on a TRX band and banging into young, fit, serious gym-goers is FUNNY. Even if I am said woman.

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