Jillian Michaels is a sadistic bitch, and other adventures

One of my co-workers came to work one day talking about how sore she was from a workout video she was trying.  She said it was only a 20-minute workout, but it was supposed to be incredibly effective.  It's called Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred.  I thought to myself, "A 20 minute workout every day for 30 days?  Psh... I can do that.  I've already been doing that.  How hard can this be?"  So I bought the video (about $9 at Target), along with the prescribed equipment: a yoga mat and some 5 lb hand weights.  The next morning, I got started.

Jillian Michaels is a sadistic bitch.

Having never watched The Biggest Loser, I had no idea who Jillian Michaels was.  She looked like a pleasant enough person on the DVD case.  I expected a supportive exuberance, like Richard Simmons or any of the other creepily nice people to which we were subjected in high school when the P.E. teacher had a hangover and didn't feel like actually teaching, so we sweated to the oldies instead.

There was one semester where I saw this guy more than my teacher.

But Jillian Michaels yells at fat people for a living.  She's not sweet or understanding.  She tells you to stop whining and keep moving.  If you stop for a break, YOU FAIL AT EXERCISE.  You do your 24 minutes, exactly how she tells you to do it, and you shut the hell up about how hard it is.  There is something to that method, though.  You very quickly develop a special type of resentment toward her that drives you to continue.  Like you need to prove to her and yourself and everyone that you can do this.  Also, you know that if you get through your 30 days and reach whatever goal you had set, you never have to look at her stupid face ever again.

This is the face of evil.

Apart from a general feeling of impending death, the first two days of the video went pretty well.  Day three rolls around and I'm feeling the burn, both in my muscles (a soreness, the likes of which I've never experienced) and a seething hatred in the core of my soul. I begrudgingly press play and get started on the third day of punishment.  Midway through, I mercifully injured myself rather severely.  One of my 5 lb weights came crashing into my left thumb.  Here's the magnitude of brainwashing that comes with this harpy's video: as my thumb immediately began to swell and turn unnatural shades of blue, my first thought was that I needed to finish the routine.  Luckily, rationality (and experience with far more injuries than I'd like to admit) won out, and I administered first aid to myself, all the while with Jillian playing in the background, yelling at me that when it starts to get painful is when it counts the most. 

Last night, I went to the doctor and had some x-rays and it turns out that I'm incredibly lucky.  My thumb isn't broken, just badly bruised.  Not only am I lucky for having averted major injury, but also because, if it had been broken, my doctor visit would have lasted quite a bit longer and I wouldn't have been home in time for Jeopardy.

What can I say? This is one sexy Canadian.

Last night was the online test for potential Jeopardy contestants.  Auditions for that show are a long, complicated process.  Anyone who even wants to be considered has to sign up months in advance to take the online test.  Of the people who "pass" the test, a randomly selected group gets a phone interview.  Of those interviewees, some get to actually go to a real audition.  Of the people who do well in the auditions, a select few will become contestants on the show.  How do you know if you pass the test?  You don't.  You don't ever get told your official score.  You can guess, based on how many of the questions you believe to have gotten correct.  My guess is that I scored 30-35 out of a potential 50.  But the Jeopardy officials are rather tight-lipped about what constitutes a "passing" score.  The only way to find out if you answered an acceptable number of question correctly is to get a phone call, which could happen any time between next week and December.  Whether or not that call ever happens, I'm proud of myself for doing it.  And I'll probably do it again next year.

That's not the only show for which I'd like to audition.  When I've lost all the weight I want to lose, I'll figure out which of my friends will be least likely to kill me or send me into a homicidal rage when stuck together under a great deal of stress of two months and go out for The Amazing Race.  Apart from the obvious reason,

Need I say more, ladies?

 I would just love to go traipsing around the world doing wacky things.  Who wouldn't?