P90X: The cure-all for that extra weight. And as it just so happens, I've got that extra weight.
According to the directions, you need to own a set of dumbbells and a pull-up bar. Dumbbells, no problem. Pull-up bar?!? Yeah, sure. Suddenly this sounded like a humiliating YouTube moment just waiting to happen.
Last night was my official P90X debut. My husband was doing it with me so he read off our choices. "How bout Syngergistics?" (wth?) "Wanna do Ab-Ripper?" (Um, let's skip anything that says 'brutal' right on the front.) "There's Yoga." (Suddenly I pictured my husband and I side by side stuck in a Lotus pose and the emergency squad's inevitable involvement.) We ended up settling on Kenpo X...aka; kick boxing.
Here's a little tidbit of info you should know about me when it comes to exercise. I don't do the warm-up and I don't do the cool-down. Therefore, I sat on the couch watching my husband go through the warm-up. (If I never again see him do a 'Rocking Prayer Squat' I'll be forever grateful.)
I jumped in for the actual workout, dressed in my exercise pants and matching sports bra. (I've discovered when working out in front of my husband, if I'm dressed in the most humiliating attire possible, I keep my stomach in a continual 'sucked in' position.)
The first thing I noticed was the little timer in the bottom corner of the screen acting as a constant reminder that you're nowhere near done. I also took note of the fact that the guy doesn't do a whole lot of explaining. He tells you what to do and then you're expected to do it. As a newcomer, it's kind of overwhelming to realize they're almost done by the time I get the moves down. (My extensive cheer leading past served no purpose here.) And oddly enough, he has no count down rhythm. Instead of the "5, 4, 3, 2, 1 begin" thing I've grown accustomed to, he would say, "5-4" (pause) "3-2" (pause) "Begin!" Or sometimes he would switch it up and say, "5-4-3" (pause) "2-1" (pause).....and then just start doing it. (I can't work under those conditions.)
Eventually my observation turned to the red headed woman on the screen, who was built like the woman on the Terminator movies and seemed to share the same personality. And finally, I couldn't get past the guy's soothing voice while saying borderline creepy things such as "Ooohhhh, I feel that in fantastic places." (Yikes.)
Okay, so clearly my mind was wandering, but I'm pretty sure that was just a survival technique to get me through it. Because the whole time my brain was thinking "that's what she said," my body was kicking, punching, squatting, blocking, jogging in place, doing jumping jacks and invisible jump rope. (fyi: I'm pretty skilled with the invisible jump rope. Add that to my resume.)
All in all, I grade it an 'A.' Granted, there were a couple of things I didn't care for, but I don't think I can hold the annoying sounds of my back fat smacking together or the fact that my dog bit my ankle when she walked into one my kicks against the exercise program itself.
The truth is, last night I had my a** handed to me by P90X. Let's hope eventually it does something with my back fat.