My husband bought me an I Pod for Christmas. He bought one for me last Christmas but I mentioned weeks before the holiday that I didn’t much see a need for an I Pod since I had all my music on Windows Media Player and could burn mixes of CDs when I wanted. I was “old school” and didn’t want to conform to the new way of music.
After Christmas he told me the story of how my comment had caused heartburn as he tried desperately to return the I Pod and find another thoughtful gift. Oops.
Over the next year I started to see how an I Pod would be a useful thing for the gym. I decided that it would motivate me to work out more since I was someone who couldn’t live without music- especially when performing tasks. Also, it would avoid embarrassment when I showed up at the gym with my current portable music device- a Sony Discman purchased by my parents for me in 1996 complete with large foam covered ear muffs- I mean head phones. Do they sell Discmans anymore?
So, I accepted the gift with excitement and anticipation only to be disappointed when I found out how much preparation it required to actually use the thing.
With the I Pod, Matt got me an armband holder thingy- so I could wear it to the gym and get my work out without it bouncing around in my pocket. What a neat little contraption.
Looks can be deceiving.
Our first Gym visit together of the New Year was met with quite a struggle in the car. That damned thing. I thought for sure I was going to throw it out the window. Let me try to explain the I Pod Tango.
You place the I Pod on your arm in the position you want it to be in so you can see the screen. You then wrap one side of the Velcro strap around your arm while holding the actual pocketed I Pod in the place you want it. This requires the use of only one hand. ( trying to use the other creates a strained, awkward, wounded-bird type flapping that is quickly found to be futile). Then, you try to use your other fingers (If you have any left) to reach around the other side to the dangling sister strap. THIS is where the joke’s on you. When you think you’re getting the strap over to the other side to mesh with it’s counterpart, it sticks with a cement hold to any part of Velcro it inadvertently touches. The bond is so great, that it takes a total release of your previous holdings to free the clinch. And… you’re back at square one.
While harassed by this mission to get the two straps together, Matt noticed the fight and said, “What is going on?”
“I can’t get the thing on the thing where it needs to be.”
At which point, Matt burst into laughter. “It can’t be that hard. Just fasten it and then slide it up your arm.”
Feeling sheepish that I hadn’t thought of that, I undid the whole “doing” and tried that option. First try, too small. Second try, way to big. Third try, if.. I… Could… Just wind… this thing up my arm… by twisting it back and forth…. There.
I stared down at the result. Red, sensitive rash all the way up from the elbow, left by the Velcro Indian Burn. The strap was obviously done too small and my arm was bulging from either side like a pastry about to be cut into individual servings with string.
When we arrived, Matt ended the pursuit by strapping it for me.
Thanks a bunch.
I could see it now, every time I wanted to go to the gym sans Matt, I’d have to ask the front desk to fasten my I Pod for me, like asking the baby sitter to tie my shoe.
No comments:
Post a Comment