The Adventures of Fat Ass and Chimpy, Part 2: Fun with S&M

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{In case you missed Part 1, you can introduce yourself to Fat Ass and Chimpy here}

Oh, my friends. Let me tell you: At one point yesterday, I was crawling across the floor, a harness across my chest, dragging about a million pounds of chains behind me.

I cracked a joke and said I felt like Maggie Gyllenhaal (wow, I spelled that right on the first try!) in Secretary. Chimpy did not get the reference, because he spends too much time being awesome and helping other people be awesome to keep up with indie movies from the early 2000’s.

The harness was secured at the base of my chest, below my bosom (I feel like a 70-year-old knitting club president when I say things like “bosom”). With each movement, the harness hiked my boobs (I’m much more comfortable saying “boobs”) up a little higher. By the end, I could’ve put my head down and kissed them hello.

I’m calling it the Rack Attack.

Chimpy and I both showed up in neon pink tank tops yesterday. Chimpy is obviously comfortable enough in his masculinity to rock stereotypically feminine colors, while I just use any excuse I can to wear this awesome shirt. (Do any of you get why this shirt is so awesome, especially when you wear it while you’re working out? No one else I’ve shown it to gets it which makes me wonder if people see it and just assume I’m way obsessed with Britney Spears).

Personal training is definitely a mild form of sadomasochism, if you ask me – or at the very least a tame sort of domination. The one in charge takes you around his chamber of kinetic kink and tells you to do things. Puts you in all kinds of awkward positions, sets you up, tells you to go, and then watches you, and if you do it right, they feel quite satisfied.

Maybe I’m only noticing this similarity because of the type of training I’m doing with Chimpy; back to basics, break you down to your foundation, started from the bottom now we’re here training. Breathing exercises. Crawling exercises (hence the harness and chain-dragging). The seemingly simple act of holding kettlebells down at my sides and carrying them the length of the room and back.

Chimpy talks a lot about helping me let go of my fear – that scared voice in the back of my head that’s saying, “Be careful! One false move and you’re crumpled on the floor again!” I heard that voice many times yesterday, especially toward the end of the hour long session, when my back muscles were starting to get tired. I was scared that I would collapse at any moment; that a stray breeze would cause the house of cards to come toppling down.

At those moments, I consciously took deeper breaths. Told myself, “You’re ok. You’re fine. You are able to do this.” I slowed down and focused on the moment. And it helped.

We’re working a lot on trusting my body to do what it needs to do, to get back to where it’s meant to be – moving freely and confidently. A lot of this depends on me trusting Chimpy himself. I think I can trust him. The logical side of me likes all the credentials and certifications he has, while the instinctual part of me tunes in to his “do what comes naturally” approach.

Let’s see what happens next.