little bitty girl

That should be the unwritten credo of all gym memberships. After much contemplation, I've decided to quit my super cool but expensive gym. I am a little sad over this decision because I truly did enjoy it there, except I haven't really been going for the past six months or so. Chalk it up to me moving my office from the area. Yes, I really am that lazy when it comes to sweating on purpose.

Anyway, I've just had to admit to myself that I need someone else to motivate me to work out. Gaining weight doesn't seem to bother me as much as I thought it would. I always thought that if I ever became chubby that I would be really upset and do something about it. So far, I've only been fascinated by the emergence of a little belly. The holiday weight gain has produced a cute little ponch which I sometimes will purposely stick out to illustrate to Stef how cute I will be when I allow him to knock me up in the far far future. He keeps telling me that it's not that cute -- at least when I'm not actually pregnant.

But there I go off on another "Karen A.D.D" tangent.

So back to my thought on needing companionship to sweat. I don't actually need to work out next to someone. I just need to know that I am meeting someone at the gym. Fat won't make me work out but disappointing a friend will.

I just found this amazing spin studio across the street from me, with no obligations to sign a membership and have had a Sunday date with Amy for the past three weeks. It's been working out excellently, so I decided to make the switch and stop throwing my money away.

I emailed saying I wanted to cancel the membership. Then an email was sent back saying that I needed to sign some paper that was behind the reception and that I had to give thirty days notice. I went over to get it and was told I needed to get a salesperson to give me the paper. And of course, no salesperson was around on a beautiful busy Saturday. I mean, how ridiculous! Just give me the damn paper already. Steaming, I vowed just to close the bank account they were taking the money from. But I realized that this would simply be a case of cutting off one's nose to spite one's face.

Then I decided to send a very polite but curt email stating the pointlessness of this whole cancellation process. I always remembered that one of my early bosses happened to be a very good complainer. Anytime she was faulted in any way, a polite but curt letter was sent to whoever was in charge. She always got something in return - a profuse apology, a credit note, a refund etc. Back in the day, when I was quite young I thought she was just this awful complainer. But now that I am older and wiser, I can completely appreciate not wanting to be taken advantage of. The email prompted a very quick response that it would be taken care of immediately. We'll see whether it is true when it's time for them to take a payment out.

Nevertheless, I see now how effective things can be if you're willing to speak up. I don't think I'll ever be someone who will complain about every little thing that goes wrong but I definitely have gotten over the fear of speaking my mind when I am being screwed.