Weight Training, White Jeans, and a Couch: A Tale of Muscles

Dear Readers,

I wanted to share a story of strength with you dear reader(s).

As most of you've noticed...I've been working out lately.  Ok, no one has noticed.  But still, I've been working out.  With actual weights.  Not just getting on the treadmill and calling it good.  I've been in the gym getting after it.

Why have I been working out??  There are many reasons.  Here's just a few:

• Working out is good for you.  Evidence for this is everywhere.
• I can't be a Therapist and tell clients to work out to feel better...If I don't work out myself.
• Swim suit season is coming up.
• I want to be strong.  Not thin.  I've always been thin.  But I've decided I want to actually have muscles that are visible.  This requires using weights.  
• There was a awesome Groupon deal for a gym package (and I can't pass up a good deal.)
• Working out makes me feel better.  Literally.  
• I like fitting in my pants.

I've always worked out.  But I've done so in phases.  I'll get really into it and then get busy and stop working out.  Which is a bad idea.

I've decided never to get so busy that I neglect myself for at least a couple hours a week. I used to spend a couple hours a week watching horrible Reality TV.  Now, I take that time and instead go to the gym.  Do I still watch bad Reality TV?  Yes.  I always will.  But, I watch less of it now and it's probably for the best.

I have a long way to go before I start seeing any muscles, but I'm still working on it.  One day I'll be able to flex and something will move in my arm.  And when that day comes...It's going to be hard not to cut off all of the sleeves of my t-shirts and not show my guns 24-7.

There was an actual story that I did want to tell you, so I probably should get on with it...

The other day I was in my storage unit (which is jam packed of fun stuff...Including several couches.)  I was looking for summer clothes to wear on a trip to Florida.

(The boo and I were taking a trip to Sarasota, FL the next day for a little vacation.)

Since I moved in with the boo, all of my stuff has been packed up...and since we have a regular sized closet that we share...I make frequent trips to the storage closet to get clothes...Which is fun.

Any way, I had been to said storage closet two different times trying to find these white jeans of mine. (Yes, I said white jeans.)  I couldn't find them anywhere.  After a long search, I found these two boxes underneath a couch way in the far back corner of the storage unit.  I had looked inside every other box...so I knew they had to be in there.

So I commando crawled it all the way back to where the boxes where.  The problem was that a couch was sitting on top of them.  VERTICALLY.  The movers had used the boxes so that the couch wouldn't touch the floor in case the storage unit flooded.

After commando crawling all the way to the back of the storage closet I got trapped.  I couldn't move.  I was pretty sure this was the end.  So naturally, I started crying.  All I wanted was my dang white jeans.

I had my phone on me and thought about calling the boo and telling him what was going on...But then I played that conversation out in my head and decided it did not portray me in the best light:
A grown adult, crying, because a couch is on top of her white jeans...Oh, and this grown woman is trapped in a 10-15 foot space at the local Budget Storage Rental place.


I didn't know how to put that into words without sounding ridiculous.  So I did not make any calls to alert him to the situation.  

Oh, in addition I wasn't just crying about the jeans.  I was crying for several reasons...Mostly because it was the day before we were leaving for Florida and I had nothing packed because I was super busy with writing papers for Grad school and looking for a job.  And the whole reason I had to have the storage closet in the first place was because I had to move out of my apartment because I could no longer pay my rent...After being unemployed for over a year.

So it wasn't like I was just crying about the jeans.  The jeans were what set it off.  The underlying issues were:  everything else happening in my life.  (P.S.  As a therapist one day I will for sure have a client come in that starts crying about white jeans and I will ask them questions to get to the root of the real issue...)  But for now, I had to be my own therapist and get my act together.  Or decide to spend the remainder of my days in a Budget Storage Unit.

At any rate, I decided to use logic and reasoning to get myself out of there.  But, I wasn't leaving without the jeans.

So somehow I lifted the couch with one arm while using the other arm to slide out the two boxes underneath (the boxes I was convinced the jeans were in.)  I looked in the first box.  No jeans.  More tears.

Alright, so now I have a couch that is standing VERTICALLY on one end on top of a box.  That I'm pretty sure my white jeans are in.  I could have just left the situation as is was.  But I'm an Oakley...And Oakley's are A LOT of things...But we're not quitters.

Therefore, the only decision was to get the box out from under the couch and find my beloved white jeans.  That I was going to wear in Florida (with super cute shoes.)

Again, I hold up the couch with one arm and slide the second box out.  I open the box and dig...And at the bottom of the box...WERE MY WHITE JEANS.

My life was complete.

However, I was now definitely trapped in a 10x15 Budget Storage Rental Unit.  And now my couch was on the ground.  And if I were to leave the couch there, it most likely would have gotten ruined....

But I couldn't do that to this couch.   This was more than just a regular couch:
This couch was a symbol of my freedom.

Why??  When I had moved out of the house I shared with my Former Domestic Partner the ONLY thing I wanted was white couches in my new place.  Why??  Because our house was decorated like he liked it...Like a dude...and I couldn't take it.  I had been living with him and decorating for him for the past 6-8 years and all I wanted was to finally decorate for myself.  And decorating for myself meant cream colored couches.  

So anyway, this couch means a lot to me.  And I wasn't going to let it get ruined so I had to figure out how to get it out of harms way.

After much problem solving and false attempts to remedy the situation, I sat down on the ground and put my head in my hands.  Not only was my couch not going to make it...I didn't know if I was going to either...I had no way of getting back out of my storage unit.

So I'm sitting on the ground, head in hands, staring at my legs.  As I'm staring at them I realize that: Due to a back yard that won't quit...My legs are the most powerful energy source on my body.  And because I took Physics and have some common sense, I realize the only way this is going to happen is if I use my legs.

I cut out the crying and theatrics and got after it.  With my legs.  And what do you know??  Working out all this time had paid off.  I was able to push my legs into saving my cream couch.  So with my white pants in hand...I did a little cheer....from all the way in the back of my storage unit (which I was still trapped in.)

I was so proud of myself!  Mainly proud of my legs...That because I had been working out they now could push boxes and lift up a couch.

Eventually I ended up climbing over and under things and made it out of my storage unit alive.  And with my white jeans.

I was now ready for our vacation to Florida.

That vacation happened last week.

I never ended up wearing the white jeans.  I did however put them on at one point...but only to fall asleep in them after a carb induced slay-fest of a meal.  My boo found me an hour later...in the white jeans (and super cute heels.)  As always, it was a classy sight.

So the moral of the story is:  If you work out, you will get muscles.  You can use these muscles to push a couch off a box...That your white jeans are in.  You can then take these white jeans to Florida...And then fall asleep in them.

If that doesn't get you to the gym...I don't know what will.

Forever, Blogging About Stuff You Never Knew You Wanted to Know in The First Place,

Miss Oakley

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