Chuck Norris Does Not Sleep. He Waits.

Earlier this year, Adam and I decided to bite the financial bullet and go to see a fertility specialist (Dr. H).  Good news, he's awesome.  Bad news, he wants me to do stuff besides get pregnant. Like eat healthy. And exercise. ((Shudder))

This is the frickin' 21st century! Hasn't technology come far enough that I can swallow a pill and magically eight babies shows up nine months later? In the year 2009 I'm surprised women are still having kids. They should just be popping up out of the ground like a freakin' Cabbage Patch Kids. I mean, is this really rocket science?

Adam says I am just feeling a little bitter about working out.  What a know-it-all.

Ok, maybe I wouldn't be carrying on if we were talking like a 30-minute walk around the block or some Jane Fonda jazzercize or something.  That wouldn't be terrible; "Wash the windows, and wash the windows, now squeeze, squeeze".  I've developed a great relationship with my Wii Fit and its host of other fitness games. Its so cute, some cartoon orders me around and I get to hop on a little plastic board for a while. Piece of cake.

But that wasn't the kind of exercise Dr. H was talking about.  On one of our first visits, Dr. H took his (extremely) valuable time to explain the importance of exercise to the fertility process.  Something about the lactic acid, hormones, estrogen, muscle strength, rotating soreness, little men coming out of your walls at night and pinching your nose and if it hadn't been for your cat they would have eaten you... I don't know, I may or may not have been paying attention.

Unfortunately for me, Adam was.

And I definitely did not miss the end of the science lecture where he said I had to be doing AT LEAST an hour every single day of "heavy duty, sweating and can't talk" exercise, seven days a week.  I really thought there was a hidden camera in the wall, and Dr. H was going to pull his glasses and wig off and it would be Howie Mandel.

But it didn't stop there. I think Dr. H was on to me, because every single time I went in to see him after that, he upped the amount of exercise I had to do every day by AN HOUR.  It went from one hour, to two, to three.  The last time I was in there, I swear to God I am telling you the truth, he told me I should be exercising FOUR HOURS A DAY.  That time I didn't even try to edit myself, I plain-old laughed right out loud.  Are you nuts?  Who has time to work out four hours a day?

He told me people like he and I (at least he lumped himself in with us fattys) were meant to survive the winter's famine with nothing but a moldy Power Bar, and in the summer take over the plowing when the ox keeled over.  But in this day and age, this body type has to work twice as hard as the next guy just to stay even.  Someone else might have been offended, but I love it when Docs especially call a spade a spade.  He's right, and I believe him when he says he works out an hour a day to keep his trim figure.

Crap.  This means I actually have to start working out.  I mean REALLY working out, and no longer calling my leisurely walks around the block at lunch, or taking the stairs instead of the elevator, "my daily routine".  Even worse, Adam KNOWS I need to be working out, which means he's going to be on my case.  But there are serious factors to consider here.  First and foremost, I have to consider what it would mean in sacrificing spending quality time with the ones who matter most to me... and especially the love of my life. 

And by this, of course I mean Finn and Rachel, Pam and Jim, Nigel and Mary, Benson and Stabler, Phil (weird last name) and the Pit Stop, and of course the love of my life, Barney Stinson.  I have a strict television schedule to stick to here!  I mean, how on earth can I manage to watch Glee, Amazing Race, So You Think You Can Dance, How I Met Your Mother, and all my other shows if I'm spending countless wasted hours "getting healthy" and "living longer".  Its all hippie nonsense.  Adam's solution to not cutting into my TV schedule is to wake me up at the butt-crack of dawn for a speed-walk.  Oh lordy, he's adorable.  For those who don't know me, I am slightly unpleasant in the morning.  I would equate it to taking a big long swig of milk directly from the carton, only to realize (just as it is tumbling down your throat) that it had curdled.  That's about how sour I am in the morning.  So mornings are out.  But that leaves me with a quandary--how do I get my exercise and TV?

Enter Chuck Norris.  Did you know that Chuck Norris's tears can cure cancer?  Its a true fact, look it up.  (Too bad Chuck Norris has never cried.)

Lately I've been plagued with insomnia, an unexpected side effect of the most recent D and C (again, another post).  And insomnia equals late nights which results in massive infomercial viewing.  Which, aside from me being groggy for work, isn't a problem for me because I LOVE infomercials.  I could seriously watching them all night long.  Billy Mayes dying broke my heart, 'cuz he was the master.  So when I say I have some experience judging the good infomercials from the bad, trust that I know what I am talking about.

Chuck Norris has a fantasic infomercial for a home gym.  I fell in love immediately.  Ok ok, I probably would have bought a fat suit if Chuck Norris was pitching it.  He makes everything look so cool!  But it sparked a genius idea... if I could work out in the comfort and privacy of my home, just like Chuck, I could easily do it in front of my favorite shows.  Despite my love of infomercials, this is the only thing I've ever bought.  Except for the Instyler.  And the Magic Bullet.  Uh, and that Shark mop.  Oh oh! And that chopper thing, that thing was so awesome....

Anyways, I picked one up on Ebay.  Speaking of Ebay, if I can be a little ADD, I don't even know why I'm messing around with this fertility stuff.  Ebay has everything you could ever want and more; if I looked hard enough there is no way I wouldn't just find a kid on there.

A week later my Total Gym showed up.  I'll give Adam credit for setting it up for me; the thing weighs 100 lbs.  And I know you are expecting me to say it has since gathered a fine layer of dust in the corner of my house.  But it hasn't.  Chuck Norris is right, the Total Gym is awesome--and it's perfect for me.  I can easily do an hour on that thing, working muscles I didn't even know I had, while watching Law and Order or The Office.  But of course Chuck Norris wouldn't let me down.  Fun Fact!  Did you know that Chuck Norris destroyed the Periodic Table of Elements?  Because Chuck Norris only recognizes the element of surprise.  It happened, ask him.

Anyways, I don't think I'll be hitting four hours of exercise a day any time soon.  But I have achieved the "rotating soreness" that Dr. H insisted upon, and all the while not missing a single one of Barney's "Legend...wait for it... and I hope you're not lactose intolerant because its... DARY".