My Mother's Curves

I talked to my mother tonight. She just joined Curves. Apparently, my sister-in-law joined and told her how much she likes it, so my mom decided to sign up. Signing up was much more difficult than she had anticipated.

The first thing the Curves employee wanted to do was perform a body analysis and help my mother set some goals. That didn't go so well. The employee was a very perky woman with a huge smile and a sing-song voice. "It was like I was stuck in one of their commercials," my mother said. "The whole time, I was thinking, I can't believe a real person talks like this!"

My mother fixed the woman's voice condition by saying, "I'm not having a body analysis, and I don't want to set any goals. I'm just here to work out." The woman didn't know what to say. The smile was frozen, and she temporarily stopped breathing.

After recovering from the shock of the Curves train wreck that is my mother, she tried again. My mom replied with, "Look, I don't have goals, I don't want goals, and there is no way you are touching my thighs with that tape measure. I just want to work out. I don't even want to lose weight. I just don't want the weight I have to shake so much."

The woman wrote that down--less shaking--because it was as close to a goal as she was going to get with my mother. Finally, she managed to sign her up to work out. My mom agreed to a year, but there is no way in curvy hell she's going to stick with that. She went this morning and said, "You know, those women talk the whole time they're exercising." The nerve!

The best thing about it so far? She doesn't sweat. She said, "I figure I sweat enough during my nightly hot flashes, I don't need to sweat at the gym." I didn't bother explaining that perhaps this means she's not really working out. I'll leave that to a perky, unsuspecting Curves trainer.

I'm sure my mom will get her best workout ever strangling the employee with her tape measure.


{This evening, I also learned that my childhood friend and summer camp buddy, M, just lost her mother. As I write about my mom, even in humor, I think about how incredibly hard it would be to lose her. I can't imagine life without these phone calls. Tonight, I laugh at my mom, and I cry for M.}