The Muscle Confusion Workout — Is my Pain Worth It?

I will admit that my brain is already addled from everyday wear and tear. It can get confused easily, so I try not to overload it with too much information. So, in an effort to prolong its life, I have decided to give up math. I think a brain without math could last a long time for me.  So far, that idea has proven helpful.  However, the other day, I was at the gym, and one of the trainers tried to explain to me the math behind the “Muscle Confusion” workout.

I had turned him off completely, but then he said something about muscle confusion helping me to get into tip top shape faster, so I opened my brain back up just a bit to let some of his conversation sink in.

“My muscles are confused? “ I asked. “Is that why I trip over my feet?”

“Well, no. You are just klutzy, but you can be a really fit klutz,” he noted.

I wasn’t offended by his observation; I can attest to the fact that I am sort of uncoordinated. But I was intrigued by this workout idea which apparently is the newest tool in the “get fit” arsenal. The concept is to train your body so your muscles don’t know they are being trained. You work on different exercises and machines on different days. You work out one set of muscles; give them a rest for a day or two while you work on another set of muscles and so on and so forth until you are svelte and strong.  Sounds good right?

I had some questions: What if my muscles figure out my diabolical plan of control and domination? Can they counteract it? I don’t want them to get in revenge mode and transform me into a cross between Arnold Schwarzenegger and the Michelin man.

If the trainer is correct and he could give me six pack abs, that would be a real life miracle consider I carry a quarter keg around my mid-section normally. Despite my daily crunches and abs machine workouts, the world might still assume that I down Tastykakes and Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies on a daily basis–which I do – but the exercises are supposed to counter those dietary vices.

I did like the trainer’s confidence in this muscle confusion theory, but I didn’t like the changes in my lifestyle I would have to adopt to maximize results. In order for me to get the most out of the workouts, I would have to totally abandon the dessert fests – yes, the aforementioned Tastykakes and Milanos. Am I willing to make this sacrifice? Honestly, I don’t think giving up these items cold turkey would be a good thing for my family or the world in general.

“What kind of new age, gym crap is this?” I asked bluntly. “The reason I go to the gym is so that I can indulge in my sweet treats without the consequence of having to get a credit card to Lane Bryant.”

“Well, you are getting older, and you should avoid these things at all costs… at your age,” the stupid boy added.

“How old do you think I am, you twit?”  I imagined that response; I didn’t say it. He should have been able to read my face though, and because he didn’t see that he had insulted me, my confidence in him waned, and then he said something that totally made me despise him. I wouldn’t have been so freaked out if what he said was something I had never heard before. But I had heard it before; in fact, I have been told this over and over again, and the most recent comment was said the day before this workout.  He said:

“I have wanted to tell you this, and I keep forgetting, but do you know that you are the identical twin for the mom from That ’70s show? You look just like Kitty.”

For the record, I think the actress who plays Kitty is cute. I don’t mean to insult her, but her character in the show, the one I look like, has hair that is teased beyond belief and well, her voice is a little squeaky and I was already upset over the Tastykakes and Milanos, and so I was not happy, so I stormed out of the gym.

My first instinct was correct: This muscle confusion therapy was not a good idea. I should have kept my mind and brain closed.  Now, I can’t eat Tastykakes or Milanos without guilt and I look like a bouffant-haired woman from the early 1970s.  I think I either need to find a new gym or move somewhere where big hair is still in.