There are a few reasons I still occasionally go to the gym, at 39 weeks and 5 days pregnant.
1. Because if I stay sitting down for more than a few hours, I am fairly certain I will never again arise.
2. I can wear tights and a t-shirt all day long and feel justified.
3. I can wear the same tights and t-shirt I wore at the gym 4 days ago and smell bad and look gross, and people will still ask: WOW. DID YOU WORK OUT? And even though I've been eating and crying for the last 4 days since I went to the gym, I can say. Yes. Yes I did.
4. Heath cake.
I went to the gym yesterday with Branden. I really shouldn't have, because my day started with me asking him to do something and him saying Sure Kaylee, I would love to do it, and me responding by crying and saying Branden, I know you don't want to help, why don't you want to help? I DON'T WANT YOUR HELP. I was as confused as he was, and it was then that I should have decided I was a completely hormonal, emotional, slightly neurotic pregnant person and that the best option for the next hour of my life was to crawl back into bed, never again to arise.
However, after I stopped crying (because Branden had offered to help me and I was crying because that totally makes sense) I asked him if he wanted to go to the gym with me. I'm fairly certain he was terrified to say anything other than yes, so off to the gym we went.
Since I have started visibly showing, people shamelessly stare at me upon entering the gym. At first I thought it was because I was looking super beautiful these days. But then it occurred to me that I was wearing my husband's t-shirts that were too big for him, my belly button was a weird little outie that showed through the oversized t-shirts, I hadn't combed my hair or put on make-up in a fairly long time, and I realized they weren't staring because I was beautiful; they were staring because I was pregnant.
We entered the gym and the stares began. I swear that as I walked in, everyone stopped what they were doing, the music shut off, all the machines broke, and every human just looked at me. PREGNANT, PREGNANT, PREGNANT.
Branden, bless his sweet heart, puts his hand around my waist and asked me what I wanted to do. I go first to the elliptical and start it up. This dumb girl next to me is breathing with ease and cruising right along, and naturally I felt that I had to run longer and harder than her. I tried to keep up, but my hips and back ached something fierce. Curse my competitive soul! She kicked my butt and I waddled off the machine after a few minutes feeling quite defeated and pathetic.
I then met up with Branden again and asked him to come up with a lifting circuit that wouldn't involve me
1. Tightening my core significantly.
2. Laying on my back.
3. Laying on my stomach.
4. Laying on my sides.
5. Hurting my back.
6. Hurting my stomach.
7. Hurting my sides.
8. Make me tired.
9. Make me grumpy.
10. Make me cry.
With a host of options left, we came up with three exercises, the first of which was a set of 10 push-ups. My push-ups are little teensy arm-dips, because I lower myself down about 3 inches and my outie belly button scrapes the floor.
If I wasn't exaggerating before about the whole gym shutting down so everyone could watch the show, I mean it now. I wanted to stand up and yell,
WHAT. YOU'VE NEVER SEEN A 9-MONTH PREGNANT WOMAN DO PUSH-UPS ON THE GYM FLOOR?!
But I know that saying this would have made me cry and one of my rules would have been broken, so instead I asked Branden to tie my shoes for me because they had come undone in the push-up mess and I couldn't reach my toes.
After realizing that I could hardly take a picture of my husband tying my shoe in the gym because my stomach was in the way, I suddenly felt very, very tired. We went home, and I'm still wearing my tights and t-shirt and impressing all the people with my stinky 4-day old outfit.
