Chicken Nuggets

We joined the YMCA. When making the decision to join I expected some transformation, some self-discovery, some sweat, some tears, but I didn't expect so many results so soon.
My primary discovery has been that I am neurotic and paranoid. The idea of exercising in a gym atmosphere with other people around makes me giggle, act immature, and pretty much make a dope of myself...big bonus, we're coughing up almost $100. a month for the aforementioned moronic behavior on my part. Last night Rory and I went together, working out will bring us closer together, and I hoped maybe make Rory so tired he'd go to bed at a normal time (didn't happen).
We got to the Y, dropped off the kids, which is where the tears come in, you'd swear Baby Henry has serious abandonment issues whenever I leave him.
Then we went to our separate locker rooms, everyone in the locker room acts like they know what they are doing. People shower, change, brush their teeth, I even saw a woman blow drying her hair, it was 6:30pm, WHY?
I felt like I needed to do something while I was participating in the locker room portion of our adventure, so I put my stuff away, went to the bathroom, washed my hands for a looooong time, then I checked my Facebook profile on my phone, checked the lock on my locker again, weighed myself, tied my shoes, checked the steps on my pedometer and went to wait for Rory...where was he? What could you possible do in a locker room to get ready for working out? I was in the locker room for almost 5 minutes and I read every sign in there!
Finally I just went to the "Fitness Area." Hopped up on a treadmill and felt totally overwhelmed, all the buttons, should I do a "Fit Test?" While I was debating the merits of the Rolling Hill setting vs. Interval training Rory came up behind me, I was somewhat taken by surprise, and for some reason yelled at the volume of someone who had been approached by a knife-wielding serial killer, and that's just the beginning.
Now that everyone was looking at me, Rory suggested we go lift weights and work on our arms. This is where I should tell you, I've worked out before, I've been to a weight room, just not at my current shape and size. Let me tell you, size matters. We started out at some machine and I put the weight peg thingy in the hole by 50lbs. I can lift that...wrong! I couldn't even move it and I looked in the mirror and my face looked funny trying to move it, so I started laughing and then I started commenting about the lack of mirrors at McDonald's and how much safer I feel there. Still no smile from Rory. I was really making some good comments, I was rolling!
I did the sets required of me by my very serious looking husband and we moved on to the next machine, then I started noticing the people standing around "pretending" to be stretching. I say "pretending" because I know they were really staring at me and mentally commenting on my ineptitude on the machines and general out of shape-ness. I could see the scorn in their faces. OK, really I couldn't but I was feeling really UNCUTE in those mirrors and maybe it was the scorn in my own face, I don't know, I remember in college I really liked those mirrors, seeing how my different muscles flexed. Now I would be happy if I could wear a snowsuit in the gym, or at least a long scarf to cover my mid-section.
We moved on to the bench. At first I thought he was joking. I laughed, too loud, made some comment about it being a breeding ground for bacteria. Still nothing, usually he finds me very funny, what is his problem? So I attempt to lay down, I say attempt because in laying down I misjudged where the actual bar was and hit the back of my head on it, but I totally meant to do that. I think my hair absorbed most of the blood. When I finally was able to lay on the bench I had to scoot my body down because my head was hanging off, then my shirt started creeping up and I couldn't stop laughing. I thought Rory was going to kill me, don't worry though, it got worse. I couldn't lift the bar. The bar with no weights, I couldn't lift it, when I finally did my arms were shaking and I was worried I was going to drop it on my face so I closed my eyes, and Rory took the bar away from me. He then handed me something called the Body Bar, which is a little bar for wienies. So then I started saying stupid things like "Look at me with the wienie bar." Rory was still not amused.
At last I was allowed to go back to the safe treadmill, and the only one available was next to a pretty foxy college girl who had on WAY too much perfume. I got on the treadmill and just pushed a bunch of buttons, because I didn't want her to think I was a total idiot, then the treadmill began going really fast and I had to run, and I couldn't see the stop button. Eventually I was flung off and the college gal took out her ear bud and said "Are you OK?" and I was about to say something like "Someday, you too will have your body ravaged by 3 pregnancies with no time to work out and a McDonald's right by your kids school. So enjoy hot and skinny while it lasts Sister!"
Instead I said "I'm totally OK, I meant to do that." Thus confirming to her that I was a total idiot.