I worked for over a decade in retail, so I’ve never been a big fan of black Friday. I value my sleep more than a “good” deal, so I’ve never been the kind of person to get up before the sun to go shopping. This year I was given an opportunity to do something different with the wee hours of my black Friday morning…I took the opening shift (5am-8:30am) at the Y.

I wasn’t too sure what to expect. Would it be busy with the dedicated members I’ve grown to love? Would it be a ghost town as everyone is either sleeping off their turkey coma or out shopping? I was about to find out.

I have to admit that I was kind of disappointed when I got there and saw only employee cars in the lot. I’ve worked this early shift before and there are usually a few brave souls waiting patiently at the door to get in.

It was a slow start, but they eventually started to trickle in. The regulars. The people who won’t even miss a workout on the day after Thanksgiving. I was proud of them. I bet that no matter how dedicated I was I would have stayed in bed. I was truly inspired to see people opting for a workout over sleeping in or shopping. The members that morning made me want to do better, to exercise more, to get my ass in shape.

With all the horror stories that I saw on the news throughout the day of people being punched, kicked, pepper sprayed and even stabbed over frivolous possessions, it was refreshing to see people who cared about the things that are truly important. Being healthy and fit, but even more importantly, friends and community. I saw friends meeting up to go running, play basketball, hit a class and visit the fitness center…at six in the morning the day after Thanksgiving!

Sure, it was an early morning. Sure, I could have been shopping…Oh let’s be realistic here, I could have been sleeping. I’m glad I took the opportunity to go in and work, the members at my Y are a true inspiration. They could have been doing any number of things, but instead they came to exercise.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Disclaimer: I ordinarily would NOT put a photo of myself looking this horrible on my blog, but in the interest of keeping it real I thought what the hell.

I MAKE A DIFFERENCE

Well, that’s what the sticker they gave me said anyway.

I did something I’ve never done before yesterday, I donated blood. You might wonder why I would be thirty one before I decided to help others with my donation? The simple reason is that I weighed under 110 pounds until I got pregnant with Cameron. I know, feel free to hate the me of the past for being a skinny bitch, I know I do.

The Y had a big blood drive and Bill was kind enough to sign us both up for it. At least he made our appointments at the same time because if he wasn’t there I probably would have chickened out and run away.

I really thought I was going to pass out before I even got to the part that involved removing my blood. Unfortunately for me, we weren’t the only ones there and when I saw the little bags of blood dangling from all those tables the room started to spin. I’m not usually the kind of person who gets woozy at the sight of blood, but there was something about a gym full of tables with people laying on them with bags of blood hanging underneath that sent me over the edge. Why they had all the chairs for those of us waiting facing the people who were donating is beyond me. I promptly turned my chair around and faced the wall.

There’s a reason I looked so awful to go donate blood. Note the lack of makeup. In the event that I cried I knew it would be ten times worse to have it all smeared down my face. The glasses? If I passed out, hit my head and needed to be rushed to the hospital I didn’t want my contacts stuck in my eyes…I was being practical. The bad hair? I was going to be laying down anyway. I do chalk the horrid color of my skin up to the crap lighting in the gym though. Oh, notice my back turned to the others donating?

As it neared my turn I got even more nervous. What if I throw up? My stomach was doing summersaults already. What if I pass out? What if I cry? I had to work with some of these people, these weren’t just strangers I’d never see again. I don’t think I’d ever be able to face them if something embarrassing had happened to me…Vain I know. I think I must have run to pee about twenty times, each time running into a different completely naked woman doing something strange in the locker room. Seriously ladies, grow some modesty!!

But I digress…

It was Bill’s turn. Crap, I’m next! When they called me I could feel the tears welling up (thank the Lord they did not spill over) as I walked over to have my vitals taken.

Over to the table I went and thankfully I was almost next to Bill so I could look at him to help the nerves. That didn’t help so I just stared at the fire sprinkler in the ceiling willing it to turn on so I could get out of this. I know, I’m the world’s biggest wuss.

Thankfully I’m an easy bleeder, so I wasn’t laying there too long before they came back and said I was done. I carefully sat up and was relieved that besides a minor headache I felt fine. I looked over to where Bill was by the snacks and he was flat on his back! YES!!! I had never been so happy to see him down! I just gave the same amount of blood as he did and I felt fine…WOOHOO!

I almost skipped over to the snack table to give him a hard time about it and tweet that he was flat on his back while I was nibbling pretzels. Not only am I a vain wuss, I’m also a sweet and compassionate wife! ;)

Fifteen minutes later we were out of there. I felt ok the rest of the day, just a little tired which could have had something to do with bad sleep the past two nights.

Would I do it again? Probably. Now that I know what to expect I don’t think nerves will be a factor next time.

Have you ever donated blood? Did you make it through without incident? Feel free to share your story.