Thanks for reading “The Fainting Couch”! Subscriptions help me do more of this newsletter-writing thing and less of the stuff that keeps me from this newsletter-writing thing, so if you would, please consider a paid subscription. If you’d prefer to show your appreciation with a tip, my Venmo is @Alice-Bradley-3 and here’s my PayPal. Thank you so much, truly.
You ever feel quiet? I’ve felt quiet the past couple of weeks. Not sad! Not bad! Just the opposite of write-y. I’ve also been on an unsubscribing tear, overwhelmed as I am with so many subscriptions, so I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your sticking with me (and how much I won’t understand if you ever leave). (Just kidding, I get it.) (Go on, git! Get out of here, you hear me?)
Well now I am sad. Come back, I love you!
Moving on
In my never-ending quest to find some kind of cardio workout (as the outdoors gets chillier and my tolerance for silly Youtube videos deteriorates), I hit upon this idea of an “indoor jump rope” — something that would feel like a jump rope without wrecking the room in which it’s being used. My reasoning being that I used to like jumping rope (when I was, uh, six) and if I use a jump rope inside, a vase will magically apparate within striking range.
Anyway, turns out, there are many varieties of “indoor” or “cordless” jump ropes, and all kinds of sites willing to recommend different brands. None of these sites, however, point that an “indoor jump rope” is the silliest device you can imagine.
What is it, you may be wondering?
It’s this:
Does it look like a sex toy? It sure does. Is it a sex toy? Well. Who’s to say, really? I’m not the sex police. You do you, you sexy freaks!
Does it actually feel like you’re using a jump rope, you may wonder? Turns out: It does not. You grip a handle in each hand; the ball whips around while you jump; you feel goofy. It’s nothing. As Abby correctly observed, it’s an imaginary jump rope. It’s not a thing one needs to … jump. Could you simply hold your hands out like you were playing pretend? Of course. Of course you could do that. There is no reason to spend 12 dollars on this. “It’s weighted,” they say. Each ball weighs about half a pound. That’s not a weight. You could just hold, I don’t know, a bag of change in each hand. Then: hop around. Am I a fitness guru now?
Also, you know what I didn’t realize about jumping rope, or pretending to jump rope? I didn’t realize that, with each jump, I would, ever so slightly, pee myself. Did not think this through. The last time I used a jump rope was certainly pre-Henry. So I jumped and I peed and I jumped and I peed. Does my pelvic floor need a stern talking-to? Undoubtedly. Did I need to learn this while I was wearing my favorite yoga pants? I really don’t think I did.
So I’m back to the ol’ drawing board, cardio-wise. If anyone has any tips, I’m all ears. Are there videos that aren’t embarrassing for everyone involved? Must I leave my home? Don’t make me leave my home!
Childbearing also took the fun out of trampolines. Sigh.
Rowing machine. Before you blindly disregard my suggestion, please read exactly how little I'm basing this on. :)
I started working out with a personal trainer over the summer. This makes me sound fancy and fitness-y and let me assure you...I am neither. I go twice a week, and workout privately with a very nice former college athlete who designs my workouts, brings me dumbbells and counts my reps.
Said trainer also introduces me to things I've never tried. Last week's new thing was the rowing machine. In my mind, I looked like Claire Hale from House of Cards, on that thing. I tried it for 5 minutes, and thought it was fabulous. Treadmills are dread mills, and the elliptical is...just, no. But this was a machine that didn't make me bored or seasick (odd, right, for a rowing machine) or angry.
If you can, though, try a trainer. Seriously. It was the best investment I made in myself this year.