Relax the sphincter

I hit the gym tonight. I love my gym. It's a really funky place. Small. Everyone knows you.
The somewhat unfortunate thing is that my ex-husband trains there too. And there are hot men there -- I mean H-O-T -- (and they aren't even Gay! I know! In the ATL!) But they all know us, so not so sure this will be the best hunting grounds for Cazadora. Case in point. One of the h-o-t men there tonight was training next to me. Kept looking at me. He recently broke up with his girlfriend he's had since high school. I pretended not to notice him. I later figured out I probably just had a really bad panty line he was staring at! I don' think I'm H-O-T enough for him away. Dude is full of tats, and really ripped. A bit immature. Yells a lot as he works out. I mean full-on caveman grunts. I picture him with a girl that looks like a really hot stripper and might enjoy him yanking her around by the hair. Definitely not me. Anyway... I digress.

When I first started there and hired one of the trainers, he told me the all-time funniest thing I have ever heard about working out. I think I was making a very bad effort at doing a dead lift.
"Relax your sphincter," he said.
"What?" I sputtered.
"Relax your sphincter," he repeated.
I couldn't focus for the rest of the night because I was laughing so hard. I literally laughed -- at home, in the shower, in my car, at work -- every time I thought about that for two weeks. I was still with my husband, so we had a great laugh about the "sphincter" that night as we made dinner.

Come along with me now for just a minute. Focus on relaxing your sphincter. But not too hard, you know, or stuff might come out...
My trainer even said that!
But he's so right. Everything in life is better if you relax your sphincter. I mean, you've got to try it while stressing out at work, while fighting with your spouse, while drinking with your friends. Relax your sphincter, and your whole personality changes. You relax, go with the flow, have more fun. Don't you think it would make a really good bumper sticker, in the vein of "Mean people suck"? "RELAX your sphincter." There'd be fewer accidents, more courteous driving, less"rear-ending"... Okay, bad pun. I think I might even vote for a political candidate who used that as his/her slogan. Anyway, it was an endearing moment -- I have thought the world of my trainer ever since. He's real. He's human. He's funny as hell.

He's also tough. He's the one who once put me on a 1,200 calorie-a-day diet. I felt like I was PMSing for two weeks as I tried it. I was grumpy, irritable, angry even. I really felt like I was capable of killing someone for so much as parading a chocolate bar in front of me. I mean, that would have incited murder. And I would have been able to plead "insanity" as I was insanely hungry! I made excuses as to why the calorie restrictions weren't for me. I tried to justify eating more. My trainer was having none of it. Then, about a week into the experiment, I suddenly adjusted to the near-starvation, and the thought of eating more actually grossed me out. Then as I shed pounds (added to me the unhappier my marriage had gotten) I started to really believe in my trainer. Trust him. Basically do anything he tells me to do. On that note, he recently offered to take a field trip with me to find some "special friends." So far, I haven't taken him up on that... I think I can buy sex toys on my own, thank you very much. Nevertheless, I should basically do anything he tells me to do. (Now go thinking he's hitting on me... he's married, two gorgeous kids. His wife and mom train at the gym. Nuf said.)

One time I was working out at the gym, about a year before my divorce, and another guy said a funny thing. He had been seeing me more frequently at the gym. "Hey, are you getting married or divorced?" he asked me. Now that was funny. As if working out and feeling good are not for married women, only those getting ready for the big white dress, or signing divorce documents. But there was a kernel of truth to what the man said. He must have been part Nostradamus.

So right now, I have several goals in the gym. 1) look like I'm 26 again (don't laugh! Relax the sphincter.). 2) Tighten up that booty, belly and any other flab that doesn't belong there. And 3) prepare for a big weekend in which I'll be on my feet a lot, dancing my tushy off. I mean hopefully literally off.

Tonight, it was the elliptical machine for me, followed by the stairmaster. Been using a lot of the medicine ball too. Doing all kinds of fun and weird stretches and exercises. My favorite one is something I am really bad at, and of course my trainer came up with it. You hold a medicine ball, stand on one foot, then move the ball up like you're doing a lay-up, then down and tap it on the ground, then back up again, all while keeping your balance. You're not allowed to tap your other foot for balance. I know! It's not easy! The first time I tried it, the trainer must have thought I had a developmental disability... But I have been practicing! I think I'm up to five reps before I fall over. Next time I do it, and I truly just thought of this, maybe I should relax the sphincter.

So, here's the really embarrassing part, and the point of this whole post. Recently when I saw my trainer, he complimented me on my behind. "I could bounce some quarters off of that thing," he said of my booty. Now of course I tell my "bestie" everything, and we got a big kick out of that one. So next time I posted on Facebook I was going to the gym, she commented, "Go bounce those quarters, girl. Get some!"

Of course, who didn't see these posts the next day, and write, "I see everyone's into the quarters these days." Yeah, you guessed it. The trainer. I was so horrified and embarrassed. Right then, right there, I panicked, wondering how on earth I could save face with that one. Then the words came to my head:
"Relax the sphincter." And what else could I do, really? And, I did hand him a quarter the next time I saw him.