|Source: My Trainer Bob.com|
Or really, @#$% Bob Harper kicked my butt.
Yep, Biggest Loser Bob Harper. The one who seems so nice. So friendly. So caring on television.
He. Is. Evil.
I had this fabulous idea when Bob was selling all his DVDs for 75% off last week that I would buy all ten. All ten. Lofty goals? I have them. They came Friday.
They sat on the coffee table all week-end, but no way was I going to be doing these with witnesses ... especially snarky witnesses like my uber fit and sporty competitive swimmer kids I have 25+ years on. They swim up to 9 times a week.
Me? I drive the car and sadly, for the latest few years, that has been the extent of my workout.
So me huffing and puffing in front of the kids? Not going to happen. I give them enough material to mock me.
So today it was. I made jokes about how my neighbors would be able to blame all the noise coming from my house on trainer Bob. Sadly, this was something we call foreshadowing.
I chose the so-called "beginner's" DVD and then? Then began a spiraling, dispiriting 35 minute descent into fiery hell that ended in dry heaving, collapsing knees, eyes rolling back, and shrieks.
This. Was. No. Beginner's. Tape.
Sorry, pardon my French, but the words, "F@ck me" between retching in the kitchen sink became a far too common pattern and I was unable to finish the last 10 minutes. Bleach anyone?
Back between heaves, I tried again. More lunges, more planks, more jumping jacks with weights. Oh my Focking stars... Oh the dizzy!
Have you ever seen those TV shows when Spot the dog knows his owner is about to enter diabetic shock or experience an epileptic seizure? Dogs just know.
Well Seb just knew.
He knew something was very, very wrong. He whined. He pawed at me. He cocked his head at his crazy human lady contorting her body when she's usually ensconced on the couch with his head on her feet.
|Why she so red and huffy?|
I was sure he was telling me I was about to have an aneurism. I know I was bloody stroking out. All the while that damned Bob kept yelling, "Just keep going."
Yes, Bob. I get you. I keep "going" to the sink because I have never, ever felt this nauseated in my life. Not on the first week of track in high school. Not fencing in college. Not in Army Basic Training. Not even running the wretched Berkeley Hills in Army ROTC at Cal. Nope, not on any of those periods in my life did I feel like I was going to DIE! Suddenly all those retching pots on the Biggest Loser made sense.
Evil, evil Bob. I understand the Bob Harper diet plan. You made me exercise bulimic. Damn you. You also made my entire head the most appealing beet red.
Two hours later, this is what I looked like:
|Who needs blush when Bob's around, eh?|
Now exactly twelve hours later? After driving my kids back from swimming, I can barely move. My butt. My thighs. They are now screaming at me. And tomorrow? I am sure I'll be screaming at Bob again. But again I will. Getting right back on that pony. F@ck me!
PS I so totally am going to have my very fit athlete kids do this work out. If they scream, I'll know it's not me! Beginner's tape? Hah! My throbbing right butt cheek, Boooob! XOXO!
PPS While we are talking Biggest Loser and just loser, I wanted to share a tweet I made today that Kate Gosselin retweeted. Yes, THE Kate Gosselin. So cool. The quote was :
..And just between you and me, Bob, Conda has got to go because YOU are not a jerk whisper either.