Day 4: Tattoo was a bust but had another first that kinda made up for it.
Today I had planned to get a tattoo as I have been too chicken to ever get passed entertaining the idea of entering an establishment where they brandish needles and make them dance across your skin, leaving trails of permanent pigment. *Shiver* But I was going to do it as part of this challenge. I mean, I've always wanted one. It was an daring idea. But I could never summon up the courage. However, today I did.
I drove up to AAA on US1 and got out. Both of those were huge steps, HUGE. I walked up to the guy smoking outside of the building-- turns out he's the man I came to see. Asked about closing times (had to go to boot camp). Strike one: they close before I return from boot camp. Strike two: it was only 6 but he said he was done for the day and he was the only one there. Strike three: it costs $70 to get the words Never Settle inked across my wrist. That's $70 that I can't spare b/c I'm currently not working for 10 weeks and only have $200 to my name. Sigh.
Strangely disappointed, I climbed back into my truck and sat there, my mind scrambling to come up with another first so that I didn't punk out on my challenge on just the 4th day. I had nothing. I used the Facebook phone app to reach out to my peeps in cyber world. They got nothing. I was stuck. Frantic, I drove to boot camp.
Once there, I got out and went into the back seat for my workout shoes, socks, and pants. Shoes. Check. Socks. Check. Two of them. Double check. Pants...oh no. Where the hell were my pants; I just knew I threw them in the back seat too. I sat down and searched my mind. I got the mental image of me tossing my black w/ white stripes workout pants into the washer. Crap. My house is 20 minutes away. I'm not driving back there just to get them and then drive back to the park. The workout would be 3/4 over. Double crap.
I painfully trudged my way over to Terek, the trainer. Painfully because my arse felt as if two little people took turns giving me 31 punching licks in each cheek and my quads felt as if those little people then took a concrete bag and swung at each thigh bone. So, with my head slightly down, I utter, "Yo, Mr. T. I'm not trying to skip out on the workout or anything but I left my pants. I mean, I got my shoes and socks but, yeah, no pants, just the skirt I'm wearing." Mentally, I've already cautiously climbed back into my Jeep and started the ignition. Patiently, I waited for his expression of sympathy.
Yeah, right. What expression of sympathy? Terek the Trainer, or T-Rex I shall now call him, replies, "Great. Go ahead and put your shoes on. I'm glad you decided to work out, even in that skirt." Um...yeah...that wasn't the reply I was going for.
Anyhoo, work out I did. For the whole hour. After the first bursts of sunshiny pain shooting up my quads, exercising got a little easier. Who knew the remedy for the soreness from exercising is more exercising? That's like drinking more alcohol to get over a hangover. Who comes up with this ish? God's got a funny sense of humor.
So, there you have it. My first time doing boot camp in a skirt. An experience not worth repeating. I will always make sure to leave a pair of pants in the trunk.