P90Ouch

The New Year is coming up, which means resolution time. I always like to get a jump start on my promises for the new year so I start my resolutions in early December. That way I can figure out the ones I'm going to bail on already and remove them from my resolution list. I mean, come on. A year is a long time. I'm not setting myself up for failure.

A habitual contender is, of course, the "Get In Shape, Grrrrl!" resolution. Some people say they want to get healthier or feel better. I'm not in it for that. I'm in it for the outer beauty. While that probably sounds incredibly vain and shallow, there are two things you should keep in mind:

#1. I AM incredibly vain and shallow.

#2. Due to my employment on a college campus, I'm acutely aware of my rapid approach to what I have named as the "Ma'am-Life Crisis." You know, the time in a woman's life when cashiers and door-to-door Boy Scouts selling chocolate bars greet you, not with the light, flirty "miss" salutation, but instead slam you with "Ma'am." Which, as everyone knows, is Miss's frumpier, dumpier sister. Ma'am is the Jan to Miss's cool Marsha.

I've been Ma'amed no less than six times this year. (The fact that I keep track = further evidence of #1 from before.) SIX. And one of those crimes was committed by a mustached sales-hipster at the Apple Store. AND at the time I was wearing -- nay, rocking -- skinny jeans, boots, statement earrings. (Gentlemen, if you don't know what "statement earrings" are, just watch an episode of Real Housewives of Anywhere. They are those chunky dangle earrings dragging ear lobes past the shoulders ... the overly tanned shoulders ... of that episode's central divorcee.)

What I'm saying is this: I currently have long hair. The ends fall past my shoulders by inches. And I'd like to keep it that way. However, long hair only works in certain contexts. In Ma'am-Life Crisis time, long hair goes from Youthful to Inapproriately Clinging To the Idea of Youth. The only way I can keep this hair is to have the figure that can back it up.

So this is it. Next year I will resolve to get healthy. This year? I resolve to get hoochie. Well, my version of hoochie. (Translation: I want to be able to wear sleeveless tops without strategizing how to position my arms for the most slimming angle, and wear skirts without Spanks.)

In the last year, I've had multiple friends mention that they've suffered through P90X to reach their fitness/appearance goals. I figure I might as well try it. Sure, I've heard it's intense. But I regularly run 5 miles. I eat granola. I own free weights, resistance bands (still in the original packaging) AND a Total Gym. If I can take on a Chuck Norris approved arm routine, I'm sure I can handle a little P90X. My friend Meghan brings over her copy and I wake up bright and early to take on a routine each morning.

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For those of you familiar with P90X, here are the answers to the two questions I know you're thinking about:

Answer to Question #1: No, I'm not purchasing the chin-up bar accessory. I have no delusions about my upper arm strength. While the gurus on the screen are heaving and huffing over and under the bar, I'm going to do push-ups. Modified, bent-knee girl push-ups.

Answer to Question #2: No, I'm not following the nutrition guide. Again -- and I can't stress this point enough -- this isn't about health.

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So far I've only tried three of the DVDs, and here are my results:

Chest and Back Routine Results:

• I can no longer bend my elbow past 45 degrees, which means...
• Before showering, I have to stretch for five minutes so I'm able to actually reach my head and shampoo my hair.
• When my nose itches, I reach for it, immediately pull back and wince from the pain, then have to resort to using a straw as a twelve-inch arm extension to scratch the tip of my nose.
• I can only blog from a reclined position.

Legs and Back Routine Results:

• I can no longer support my own body weight with my legs for more than seven (7) minutes at a time.
• I now take the time to explore the architectural wonder which is the bricked-in stairwell at work, as it now takes me seven (7) minutes to climb a flight of stairs.
• When I walk, my calves feel like they have a pair of gerbils inside them, fighting for calf domination.
• I want to punch every wall I see because of my PTSD over the one-legged wall sits.

Ab Ripper X Routine Results

• I can no longer stand up straight, as my lower abs have decided they want to curl up in the fetal position and never stretch again.
• This P90X instructor, Tony Horton, is starting to look like the lovechild of my college Physics instructor and Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. Is that a sign of dehydration?

I had planned to set up the timer on my camera to capture random pictures from the workout. But, sadly, I couldn't figure out how to make the timer delay longer than five seconds. (New Year's Resolution #2: Become the Master of all Household Technology.) So I had to resort to drawing pictures. Trust me: They. Are. Spot. On.

***P90Ouch***

Hey, Starbucks barista? MA'AM THIS.

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P.S.

Since this blog post title could be construed as as referring to (not the P90X workout regimen but) the P90, a rapid-fire submachine weapon used by Russian Ultranationalists in the video game Call of Duty, I figure it's only fair to add a picture of two weapons of mass destruction:

Check out the magazine size on those ...