As we are all very well aware, life isn’t the way I had pictured it many years ago. But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re here and we have to do with it what we can…and try to keep a good attitude as well. So, what I do best is get into routines, that way I just plug through fairly hideous tasks and dull projects with some success at the other end of the tunnel. The one that I’m currently suffering through at the moment is my exercise regime.
I have yet to understand how one can sit on their respective tooshes all day everyday and not want to commit harry kari. So to shake up the day a bit, I’ve been going to work out classes at the gym in my building, and as this post is actually hard to type, (my arms are KILLING me- curse you downward facing dog and plank positions!) you can imagine how 5 lunches a week can turn into something more than flabby ass. I’m sure the weights and spinning classes are doing their thing, but the specific ass kickers for me are yoga and Pilates.
My instructor on Tuesdays is a uber tiny Cambodian man who is so limber and flexible, I sometimes feel like I might be ill watching his body contort and arrange itself in ways that are not legal in many, many countries. He doesn’t seem to like me, actually, complementing the majority of the class in their hard work and efforts, helping other students move more easily into difficult stances, and generally being a good instructor to 99% of the class.
I’m the 1%.
Apparently my hips don’t open enough. Me having considered myself “loose” for a short period of time (I’m talking about my time in Tae Kuan Do!!!) , I’m also surprised that I can’t do some simple positions that my body fights me flesh and bone to avoid. So, while the rest of the class is getting cooes and “good jobs”, I’m getting, “Are you trying? You have very, very, very bad hips- No stretch, you must work harder”. So I’m sweating my ass off, working every fiber of my being to stay not only upright, but somehow look like I belong.
I haven’t managed that yet.
And then I have class on Wednesdays with a batty ballet teacher who seems the opposite of dear sweet, Cambodian Kevin. She can’t focus on anything BUT me. Now…I try to imagine it is because my ballet poses are so breathtaking, effortless, poised and feminine…. However, she might just be into me. I should preface these tales with the fact that I do carry a hefty amount of weight on and around my buttocks and hips. It’s the thing that drives Kevin to berate me, and ballet lady to stare at my…positions. I find myself quite embarrassed at times, wishing she would pay any attention to the other students, whereas, she seems to want to direct me, position me, complement me, and just plain ol’ stare at me in front of the entire class.
I should just not go. But then again…this crap seems to be working.
I don’t know if anyone else at the ripe ol’ age of 32 finds it harder to stay in shape, but I have to work HARD to look as hot as I do (translation: keeping the Italian bits high) and if it takes the belittling of a small Asian man, or the possible sexual advances of a loony lady- I’LL TAKE IT!
Routine #1, set.
Now, Routines #2 (write book), #3 (GRE), #4 (International Aid), and #5 (PhD)….those need some work.
I can only be who I am...The Diary of an International Superhero 