Who didn't love Weird Science?

It's going to be a fantastic Friday! I even optimistically started the day by putting on my workout clothes so I would be ready to do a Jillian Michaels video the very second an opportunity presented itself. If you're also a mom, then you know the moment I am talking about. It's when the toys are all in their respective cubbies, the dishes are put away, both kids are napping, the laundry is all clean, the mindless blog is written, the garage has been organized, a Goodwill run has been made, and the spare room has finally been painted. Then, Jillian, it's just you and me!

I love Jillian. Do you know why? Because she isn't irritating. And because when she starts to get irritating, I can just mute her or quit all together and go right back to my Costco sized bag of Halloween Candy. I actually used to go the gym all of the time like the rest of the pre-kid world. But after having Emery, I started to realize just how much going to the gym is not a mom-friendly task. My first lesson in this was 3 weeks to the day after becoming a mother.

My husband (for the first time since becoming parents) was brave enough to watch the baby alone and told me I was welcome to leave. So I slapped on whatever workout clothes fit at the time. (Sidenote: Can we offer Sainthood to the person who invented black stretchy workout pants for women and made them acceptable?) I marched into 24 Hour Fitness ready to roll and hopped on my good friend the elliptical right in front of the only TV not playing ESPN. But what should appear in the corner of my eye trying desperately to get my attention despite the fact I am wearing "do not disturb me" headphones? An overly eager trainer who in retrospect probably had my due date written on his personal calendar. "I see you're back at the gym. What are your goals? Do you want to lose all of that mom-weight?" Yep....he actually said this! I should mention I had never in my life met this man before, but it's obvious he preys on the vulnerable and stakes his claim weeks in advance. I asked him his name. "Chet," he says. Then he follows that stellar introduction with, "What are your plans for when you plateau?" I had to knock down my peddling a few intensity levels so I could say, "I'm really not interested." But this is what my mind was saying:

Okay. Here is the thing Chet - I am willing to give you 5 free points because your parents had the good sense to name you something interesting. It also happens to remind me of the fantastic 80s movie "Weird Science" so just for the heck of it, let's make it 10 points. But don't get too excited because...

1. You're chewing gum obnoxiously with your mouth open and I'm not a fan of Juicy Fruit (-1 point)
2. You are wearing a pooka shell necklace after 2002 (-10 points)
2. You are obviously single, have no sisters, and just lost a bet involving a dare because NO ONE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND would initiate a weight conversation with a woman who has given birth in the last month last year (-25 points)
4. You went for a fist bump which (never mind the logistical difficulties while I am on an elliptical) has started to make it obvious why you are also the type to like pooka shell necklaces. (-50 points)

So in a nutshell, Chet, I am not interested in your training services. And as a marketing major, I would also like to offer you some advice: If you want to sell yourself to me as an "experienced postnatal trainer" then why not make your hair glisten from hard earned perspiration instead of Suave Gel for Men. Also, please don't EVER fist bump me again! Do you not see that there are at least 8 people at the gym who are in that "do I say hi or not" gray area of my life and I do NOT want them thinking this is how I roll around town. If I want to embarrass myself, I'll save it for the reunion. Are we done? Awesome...

I'm not proud that that those were my first thoughts but in the spirit of complete honesty I can't deny that they were. I really don't make a practice of mentally ridiculing people, but Chet had me on the defense in a moment of extreme weakness. I bet Jillian would like to send all the Chets in the world a personal thank you note for helping to build her an empire.

And now that my mindless blog is written, I think I will go work on organizing the garage.

Chet's "million dollar idea"