Honest Exercise

I’ve shamed myself at a job many times.

Saying the wrong thing at an inopportune time, forgetting I’ve left someone on hold, licking food off myself as someone walks into the kitchen – my shameful episodes are numerous and varied.

One sticks in my mind.  Remembering makes my face flush, my heart pound, my stomach clench, my toes quiver.  Nothing showcases fear more than quivering toes.

My high school government teacher, Mr. Prowell, got me a job freshman year of college. His sister’s husband’s friend’s dog once removed knew of an open position in Fredericksburg, VA.  Fredericksburg, VA just happened to be where my college was located.  Maybe the dog was twice removed - I don’t quite remember.  Suffice to say, it was a distant relation.  My job was registering people at a hospital, mainly over the phone, and mainly for outpatient procedures.  Cesarean sections and hysterectomies were my bread and butter.

While standing at the counter, it seemed an opportune time to exercise.  I spent most of my work-related time sitting at a desk in a cubicle, why not take advantage of standing?  Not wanting to take time away from work, I thought to exercise the part of my body not currently busy.

In other words, my fanny.

You read me right.  I would squeeze my gluteus maximus muscles over and over while putting my folders together.  I was so proud of my idea – it was an ingenious use of time and location.

I spent countless hours standing at that counter, organizing folders and squeezing my butt.

One day I expanded my exercise locations, getting my squeeze on while standing at my desk in my dorm room. Glancing over at the mirror, which was tastefully bolted into the bathroom door, I stopped in shock.

EDIT: I’ve just been informed by a concerned third party that the word “fanny” can have different connotations outside the United States. To clarify, I meant it to refer only to my behind. That is all.