The mini trampoline incident.

What do you want for Christmas? I’ll tell you what you want. You want a mini trampoline. Trust me.

When I moved to Northern Virginia six years ago, I didn’t have time to cross compare all the gyms in the area. Knowing that I tend to benefit from having access to that sort of facility, my preference would have been to compare layouts, to compare distance, to compare classes and class schedules and to compare membership fees. The great Square Piece comparison: to know my every option before striking.

The thing is that I began working at my current salon exactly one week after moving here. Additionally, during that one free week, I was watching my little bro while my parents were celebrating their 10 year anniversary on an Alaskan cruise. I wasn’t about to drag Donovan from gym to gym.  His idea of a good time was more in the realm of video games.

Concerned that I’d lose my exercise momentum, I decided to buy a couple of light dumbbells and a mini trampoline. I thought, I’ll just set this bad boy up in front of the television and bounce around for a half hour every day just to get my heart rate up. Maybe I’ll throw in the dumbbells here and there just for show.

I’d jog in place on the mini trampoline. Sometimes I’d jog so that my knees lifted high; sometimes I’d jog so that my heels hit my butt. Sometimes instead of jogging, I’d twist side to side. Then sometimes I’d alternate swinging my legs out, like the clapper that chimes a bell.

You see, I like brainless exercise. The minute my mind engages, it’s over. I’m either self-defeating or bored. I hate sit ups. I hate crunches. I’m not a fan of pushups or pull ups either. So zoning out on the mini trampoline suited me just fine. In fact it’s so easy, I kinda felt guilty… like I was cheating… not really exercising, but just pretending… just posing.

Except it worked.

Apparently jumping on a trampoline produces the dynamic combo of a cardio workout and a core-strengthening workout all wrapped into one.  A couple months into this, I looked down and noticed that I had six-pack abs! For the first time in my LIFE I had a ripped stomach! And I hadn’t done a single sit up! My mind spun… WHAT?! You mean that all the hours I ever spent obsessing over spot-toning proved fruitless, while the hours that I spent pretending to work out finally targeted the one area that is the bane of my existence? I accidentally got six-pack abs… while ignoring them?!

SOLD. Mini-tramper fo’ life, sucka.