work it out to the right

Okay. Enough's enough. The kummerspeck got out of control and I've had to switch wardrobes with my brother, who spent last year losing 90 pounds while I gave 40 of them a good home.

I hit the wall. Enough stress. Enough wallowing. Back to business.

So two weeks ago I joined the JCC Fitness Center across the street form my new job. It's costing me five times what I paid for a 24 Hour Fatness membership, which I never used. And it's worth every penny.

I hated 24 Hour. The gay vibe was either predatory or disdainful, usually both. Working out next to actual porn stars and muscle queens I felt fatter and fatter and more and more worthless. A workout at the 24 Hour at Church and Market would leave me feeling worse about myself, not better. I'd gain weight from going to 24 Hour because it would depress me to the point I'd be inclined to a pint of Ben and Jerry's as self-medication.

Sure, there JCC Fitness Center is pricey, but it is worth it. The facility is superlatively clean, impeccably staffed, fully featured, and refreshingly spacious. And if there is any attitude, is generally imperceptible. I get to work out, shower without self-consciousness, and get a swim, jacuzzi, steam or sauna if I'd like without undercurrent. I'm loving working out, maybe for the first time.

As it is the Jewish Community Center, it is a fervently Jewish place. I started to feel a little antisemitic in that I was uncomfortable with the level of religion surrounding me, until I realized I would feel even more uncomfortable in a Baptist or any other fervently Christian space. It's not the Judiasm that makes me uncomfortable, it's any overt display of religion. Blame it on a lifetime of relgion-based gay bashing.  I suddenly felt more secure that it was a Jewish space, as American Christians these days are just a comfy chair away from the Spanish Inquisition.

I still do not have my routine down, however. And I need some more suitable workout shirts as I seem to have gotten too large for previous wardrobe (hence the working out). And in my haste to pack a bag in the morning, I tend to forget things. Wednesday I managed to make myself leave work at a decent hour, although late, and get to the locker room, carefully fold up the suit, change completely, and lock up before sitting down to put on my shoes.



Well....shit.

Not that this also is not without precedent. Mismatched shoes I would have endured. Two right feet? Not so much. At least I remembered a swimsuit. I could do laps without shoes. But still, Wilson, focus.