Sweat

I’ve always been a sweat-ball. I know that that statement may offend some, but it’s the plain truth. I have a niece who swears that she doesn’t sweat, only “glistens”…..

Okay…..whatever….

Why then, do I bring up such a subject?
Well, today at the urging of a friend, I went to an exercise class.
“I’m allergic to exercise” I say.
“Don’t be bloody ridiculous!” says she. (She’s a Brit if you didn’t already guess)
She called me with the time that the beginner’s class began. Marge (my BFF the Brit) had already been to a spinning class and spun for, I’m guessing 40 miles or so at break-neck speed, but was then planning to come and do class with my other BFF, Leslie and I, for “fun”.

I contemplated the fun I was about to have, and thought to myself that exercise classes must have changed lots since I last attended one when I was 16, back in 1978!
This was going to be great!
I would go have fun for an hour or so with Leslie and the rest of the fitness folks, then zip home and who knows, maybe I’d take a spin on my bike too.
Why hadn’t I thought of doing this long ago? Silly girl!

The room where our class was to take place in was like a mini gymnasium, which
should have set my first silent alarm going off in my head.
I HATED gym class! I hated every thing about gym class in high school and used every excuse in the books to not have to dress out. Sore ankle…. wrenched knee… migraine… bad cramps… bad cramps and period… The last one used a tad too often as my P.E. teacher told me that I should probably have my Mom take me to see a gynecologist because it wasn’t normal to have my “friend” so often.

Back to the fun room! I noticed the full wall mirror that we all were facing into and thought it looked kind of off. Leslie said it was purposely distorted and I figured it added 10 or 20 pounds to our reflections…..at LEAST! I would try not to look at my reflection too much because I wouldn’t want anyone to catch me and think I was vain.

The class began.
Funky music beats… lifted my spirits a bit…..

Then the skinny, muscle-y, (and a bit too perky if you ask me) lady began having us march in place. No Prob. I smile at Leslie and try to get into my fun mood.
I don’t want to let my apprehension spoil the festivities for her.
I’m good like that.

Next came jumping jacks followed by lunges and stretches.
Okay, so I’m not exactly having fun, but this isn’t too bad.
Even though I outweigh most everyone there…. by quite a bit….
I’m not going to have any problem keeping up.
Especially with the two white haired ladies in the middle row.
I have it ALL over them!
Move over Ethel! Jackie’s in town!

Quite a while into our workout…. I’d say at least 4 or 5 minutes, I realized that I had underestimated my opponents (Ethel and that other one). I was beginning to feel kind of winded and noticed in the magic mirror that my face was starting to turn red. At the same time, I also noticed that when I was jumping and lunging, my ‘chubby-ness’ (which is my 'cute' name for my rolls.... that's the only thing cute about them...believe me!) were doing their own thing to the beat of the music.
Great! Now, because of that ridiculous mirror, EVERYONE was going to get to see the show.

By now, perky lady was mixing up the moves and I was having trouble following. Who did she think she was, Paula Abdul? My correct move percent at that point was hovering around 15%. By the time I finally got what she was doing, she was onto something else. Every time she zigged, I zagged. It was pathetic…. I’m sure it wasn’t just me messing up….. I KNOW I saw Ethel and Co. lifting right when CLEARLY we were all doing left!

We took a 15 second break to sip our water and Leslie announced, “We’re half way done!” WHAT? Are you kidding me?
“Hasn’t it already been an hour?” I say.
“No” she answers.
I take a deep breath and try to put on my happy face, but I think it looked more like one of those old Emmett Kelley Clown painting faces where you see the misery through the grin. Back to the torture chamber, which is what I’ve secretly decided that room will be renamed in my mind.

Thirty minutes later, we emerge, wringing wet, face that is so red from my allergy to exercise that it’s likely it will stay like this until dinnertime. (I TOLD you Marge)
“We did it!!” says Les
“Yeah” I reply
“Did you like it? she asks.
“Not really” is all that I can muster.
She mutters some line of crap about it getting easier next time, her way of hinting about my return.

Les knows that it’s best not to ‘poke the bear’ when she is hot and tired.
I’m certain that they’ll be asking me to join them for more fun.
Maybe when my heart rate returns to normal, sometime next week, I’ll consider it.

Maybe tomorrow, if I’m able to move, I’ll even take that bike ride.