Just about the time I bought Fiona (drunk) I bought a membership to LA Fitness (drunk) and promptly forgot about it. Apparently it was a lifetime membership, because I just discovered this morning that I have been paying $32.09 per month for the past three years and I have never darkened LA Fitness’s Yoga studio or lifted a single one of their hex dumbbells (talk about a dumbbell…).
I promise this is not going to be one of those what-could-have-been posts. But it is annoying to think about all the money I threw away when I was drinking. (Joel tells me for the amount of money I spent on his private planes to The Bahamas I could have bought a Bentley – and I like Bentley’s…)
And because I have become so frugal I didn’t replace my smashed cell phone until I started getting shards of Plexiglas in my cheek, I am rectifying this $1,155.24 problem post haste. In fact since I’ve already invested in the company, I might keep my membership to LA Fitness and start going to classes. I like matt Pilates, but if you put me in one of those Zumba joy-fests where the 12 year old instructor (with the perfect ass) shouts with a sexy, south-of-the-border accent, “Don’t be lazy! Work it!!” I will kill somebody and demand my money back (all three years worth).
But then I am thinking that my expectations might be too high. And I might not have the right outfit. And I’ve already paid so much… It’s like those Saturday night dates I used to have with my husband where a week’s worth of romance, key dialogue and authoritative v permissive parenting had to take place over chicken piccata and a barrel of white wine. I might expect to have some sort of three year backdated fitness level and be disappointed.
Bottom line (pun intended)? The cost of alcoholism is not just the price of the alcohol. It’s also the stuff you buy with impunity (and then forget) while you are drunk.