We mock what we do not understand.images-1

And let me just say this….

I

do not

understand.

I can not fathom how normal human beings (by normal I mean non-SuperHeros) can do the things that CrossFitters do. Oh, sorry…My bad. Do Y’all know this CrossFit shit? These ULTRA-insane looking men and woman who have like zero body fat and are able to leap small buildings in a single….oh wait, that’s not a CrossFitter. That’s fucking Superman. But I swear to Goddess, they are one in the same. Have you seen these people? Holy Hardbodies, Hurvitz. Wake up! Why in the hell am I dating a CrossFitter?

Why when I smash Duck Donuts like it’s my job…would I EVER fall for a guy that counts macros, and runs twelve miles in a weighted vest for FUN?

Let me explain…

I usually date guys that are a little soft around the edges. (No offense ex-boyfriends.) Not the über cut ones. I usually go for men that are mushy, and maybe even a Tad Martin chubby! What? I know, it’s crazy. But it’s legit! If you date a chunky-monkey…then you always look skinnier! Y’all know it’s a good little trick. Always date a guy that is just a smidge fatter…so you are the thinner one. At least that’s my norm. But this time, I fucked up. I picked a fucking CrossFitter. A guy that has a body with more hard lines than an Etch-A-Sketch. He looks like the flippin’ David, while me…I’m more like a Monet. Ya know, good from far, far from good.

So, let me just say this: The only reason I am goofin’ on CrossFit is that I am jealous. I’m flat-out jelly as hell that I can’t do what they’re doing, ok? I couldn’t run a mile if I was on fire. And if someone asked me to carry a 10lb sandbag five inches, I would tell them to go fuck themselves and call for the bell boy. I don’t sweat, or do any type of exercise that might increase my heart rate. So, I look at these girls’ bodies, and think, “What can I possibly do to look like them without exerting one ounce of energy?” Well, it’s simple, stop eating, get lipo…and maybe do a few Pilates classes. Beyond that, I’m just going to bitch about it. And make fun of my boyfriend while he goes to the gym EVERY single day for twelve hours to look as hot as physically possible.

CrossFit is nuts. I could never do it! It’s a gigantic warehouse (actually called the Box) filled with equipment for killing and torturing yourself. And there is no air conditioning. Omg. It’s like Auschwitz and it totally reminds me of a prison. With all the hot, sweaty inmates out back lifting barbells and shit. And it’s stinky, and sticky…and everyone is naked. But let’s keep it real…if I looked like these girls, I’d never put clothes on. And they’re all doin’ their WODs (Workouts of the Day).  I think that’s it, a WOD. Ha! They have code words and funky lingo. But you have to be a part of the “culty CrossFit crew” to understand this crap. They talk in a CrossFit Code! It’s like Nell. Remember that movie? Nell with Jodie Foster where no one could comprehend a fucking thing the girl was saying? Yes! The “over-unders” and the “kippers” or “kiplingers'”. Who knows? Oh, and don’t forget the Ass to Grass. ATG for short, GET LOW Y’all! Jesus. I would throat-punch someone if they screamed that shit in my face. Actually, I would probably cry. I would. If a trainer got all up in my grill and told me to do a sumo dead lift high pull (Like that, guys?) I would totally start crying.

I’m such a pussy.

Ya know, different strokes for different folks. And I am just clearly not a CrossFit kinda girl. But I’ll tell ya, I have met some of the most kick-ass people. My guy’s CrossFit friends are solid, and they’re all pretty tight. Each CrossFit gym kinda sticks together. They hang out…and cheer each other on during workouts and stuff. It’s actually really nice; a big pseudo family of sorts. I don’t get that at my Pilates place, or at a Yoga studio. We just do our classes, and leave. Our classes are completely inward and we keep our shit on our mats. Not really much interaction going on, I have no idea what the girl next to me is doing for the Fourth of July…and I really don’t give much of a fuck. (No offense, girl on mat 3.) But these CrossFitters are as close as they come. They spend holidays together and know each other’s, kids. They go out on the weekends and do beach trips. I have to say, I’m totally jealous of my man. He has this other family that loves and takes care of him. And honestly, would do just about anything for him.

And he would do the same for any of them.

So, as culty as this CrossFit thing may seem…I get why he loves it. And I am elated he enjoys it so damn much. And it has perks! What’s not to love about his hotAF CrossFit body? It’s his thing, sure…but I dig that he’s letting me play in the CrossFit sand-BOX. I hope his peeps don’t mind my lack of CrossFit knowledge or interest in ever trying it. And I am beyond thrilled they are accepting me for the lazy-curvy-carb-eating-chick that I am. Thanks, guys. But I think it’s safe to say, they all had their fair share of me during the CrossFit Regional Games in Atlanta last month.

And yes, you read that correctly, and yes…there are pictures.

Now, if you don’t mind…I’m going to scroll through the half-naked pics I’ve stored up of my man. And I suggest all you chubbie-bubbies find your way to a CrossFit gym, cause it works! As for me, I’m going to order up some Pad Thai. All this talk of exercise is making me hungryAF! ;)

xo j

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