Have I ever mentioned that I have gym membership? Well it's true. I do. I used to use it religiously. In fact, before my last Kaua'i trip, I even hired a personal trainer and did something he called 'two-a-days'. Before you get all goofy and embarrassed, that's when you go to the damn gym TWO TIMES A DAY. The man was a sadist, but I looked great. The reason that you may not have known about my gym membership is that the last time I used it was in my first trimester of pregnancy. For those who ran out of fingers to count on (or just hate math), that was over a year ago. I bring this up because I went to the gym today... like a sucker.
Let me explain. I have a new friend. So far, I like her, and I think she likes me, but adult friendships are tricky things, and who knows if she actually likes me or if she's just being nice because she doesn't know anybody else yet :-P The part of this that pertains to the gym is (ta-da) that she is also a Spectrum member - albeit one who attends regularly (and it shows). We were discussing cool gym amenities the other day, and I mentioned that I used to love the 'At the Barre' ballet-based class. She allowed as how she was interested in that class, but didn't want to go alone, so I volunteered to end my gym dry spell, and go with her.
We decided that this week was as good as any to start, and Don was able to come home in time to watch Lily Ruth, so it was all systems go. Of course, the only exercise I've had lately are 16 Lb over-head lifts (making a 'wheeeee' noise all the while), and walking to Starbucks, so I started to get a bit apprehensive about struttin' my stuff in front of others today. This class is usually small, so everybody can get a good look at my perfect ballet form (HA!), and my squishy, post-baby tummy and butt. To be truthful, that bit looks better now than it did when I got pregnant, but this was my first go at organized fitness in quite some time, and by 4:00 today, I was wishing that the class was 'At the Bar' instead. I really wanted a martini.
Instead of succumbing to my dread, I sucked it up and headed on in. I made it there just after class started, but before my buddy. I squoze myself into a place at the barre, and began to plié. Instead of the usual instructor (a shaved-head ex-marine with tribal tattoos), there was a darling girl... a mere slip of a gal... a child really... she couldn't have been a day over 12... I kid, but seriously, she was tiny and VERY young. She actually smiled apologetically at me when I squeezed in late - Richard would have barked at me.
She seemed so innocuous. This is why I was so surprised to find that after a scant 5 minutes or so, I began to 'take against' her. Perhaps it was the grande pliés. Or maybe it was the degages. It might have been the releves. Whatever it was, I began to loathe the sound of her voice. Like a metronome it was... one TWO three FOUR fahve (she had a darling little accent) SIX seven EIGHT. I didn't even care if she prefaced it with 'last set', I still hated it. And yet I persevered. Ya'll would be so proud of me! I sucked it up (or rather, in), and stuck it out (um, under), and did the whole darn class! Not bad for a self-confessed slacker with no abdominal control!
Way to go, Rachel! Way to go post-baby abs! Now, where is my ice pack, and did somebody say something about a martini? I like mine icy with NO vermouth... and 3 olives.
By the way, I was looking for a picture of a relaxed-looking ballet class to go with this post. Such a photo may not exist. In truth, I felt more like this anyway:
- my apologies to the mama who's blog I'm borrowing this from (via Google images) - I mean no disrespect, your daughter is ADORABLE - it's meant as a metaphor... or is it?
Oh MAN do I miss ballet class now! Kittyn, I long for the days of Stage 7 and Kathryn murmuring 'suggestions' at us while we wore thick fuzzy socks under dimmed lights. That woman knew how to teach some dance. I could hear her in my head today - 'shoot your weight DOWN through your heels' 'lift from the TOP of your head'. She made me feel like a swan.