HOW WELL DO YOU KNOW
WELL, YOU AREN'T GOING TO BELIEVE THIS, FOR SURE!
25 January 2002
Well, pooh. The Internet hates me. Some journals I've come across have started
including "how well do you know me" tests, which the writers design themselves.
I checked the site out and it was kind of fun. I decided to create the How Well Do You
Know Bev Sykes Quiz. I tried to make easy questions and when I finished, I took the test
myself (I got 100%), and then sent the link out to lots of people who don't read this
Then the e-mails started coming, each saying they kept getting "this quiz doesn't
exist." I was very frustrated. I even logged off and back on again, to see if I was
able to access the quiz because I was still logged in.
But then I got really confused because it seems Steve was able to take the test.
(He got 60 out of 100) His name was right there on the "high score list." But as
far as I could tell nobody else was able to access it.
I finally gave up and went to work. When I came home, I had more "I can't get the
site" e-mails, so I went to the site myself to see if there was anybody else on the
list besides Steve--And now I get "this quiz does not exist." What's
more, when I attempt to log into my account on the site, they tell me the account doesn't
So...it was a nice try, but I think technology has once again passed me by.
But...I now have something new to talk about in these pages. Everything's material,
they tell me.
I have made an appointment for 6:15 a.m. tomorrow morning to....I can't believe I'm
saying this....join a health club!
A woman here in town, whom I have known of for years--and perhaps we've seen each
other--but who reads my journal (Hi, Joan!) has talked me into joining and that she
and other "old guys" are there every morning at the crack of dawn. She assures
me that at that hour of the morning there are no size 6 women around and that people I
know will be there and I will feel comfortable. I suspect "comfortable" is a
relative term. I'm sure I will find muscles that have been sleeping for at least 40 years.
I have been thinking about this since she first wrote. I talked about it with Peggy
this morning and she encouraged me to do it. It means the end of most of our morning
chats, I suspect (except weekends), but we both agree it's going to be very good for me.
So I called. I can't believe I did that much. I actually picked up the phone and placed
The Call. I made an appointment to meet with a trainer when the club opens in the morning
(around 6 a.m.)
Not only did I call, but I told the guy that I have not set foot in a health club in my
life because I'm too embarrassed about my size. He was very nice and said "we all
have to start somewhere."
This is really "bite the bullet" time. I'm really serious about this, and
after spending money each week to be weighed in at Weight Watchers, overcoming the
embarrassment of my size to actually get into a club, and paying $25 a month to the club
to let them put my body through excruciating pain every day should finally make my brain
realize that I'm serious.
Who can eat chocolate when you've gone through so much money and pain to take off the
fat that it puts on you???
Now I'm faced with a weird situation. What does one wear to a health club? There isn't
enough spandex in the whole town! Joan says "just any old pants" and that
she wears jeans. Well I own about 3 pairs of pants, which I wear to work. I guess I'll
have to see if I have some grungies I can put on. She also says "t-shirt" but
most t-shirts don't fit me any more. (Just wait--another month or two and finally the XXLs
will start fitting well enough that I can wear them in public).
Even if I find the "right" pants and a loose shirt that I can wear, what do I
wear on my feet? I don't own tennis shoes. I have some walking shoes that are mostly
unused, since they aren't broken in yet, so aren't as comfortable as my black clunky shoes
that I wear most of the time.
So many decisions.
An entirely new world for me.
Opening that door is going to be more difficult than it was to walk up the stairs and
open the door to Weight Watchers for the first time.
Sooner or later we have to pay for our sins, I guess. But I know that I've been putting
my health in danger for years. I'm not ready to wind up in the hospital with a heart
attack. I have places to go, things to do, people to meet before I die and I want to make
sure that I'm around for a long while.
But....I have to actually open that door.
At least I'll have plenty of material for tomorrow's journal!