wetsy betsy

So, I've been hitting the gym lately. More than usual. I don't know why---partially because the weather sucks and there's nothing else to do. Partially because I needed to. Partially because it's an opportunity for me to be away from my 3 year old for 60-90 consecutive minutes.

So, I peeked in the studio one day and witnessed a cardio kickboxing class. It looked like a blast and I made a mental note to get the schedule and then try to work this class into my exercise repertoire. Now, I fancy myself to be quite athletic. I am a tough cookie, plus I used to kickbox back when I lived in the Detroit area. I was pretty good at it too! I figured the class to be kickboxing with some aerobics mixed in. The latter part scerred me. Although I consider myself to be somewhat athletic, I am not however, coordinated. I've been known to leave every step aerobics class and regular aerobics class that I've ever attended. I can't do it, I tell you. But, kickboxing? Now kickboxing, I can do!

I had begged a friend/work out buddy to do the class with me. Now, she actually had the foresight not to join me. She knew her limitations and thus, skipped out. Which is what I should have done. Instead, I showed up to class like I owned the place. Hopping from one foot to the other...tipping my head from side to side, like I'm about to get into a fight or something. The class continues to fill. And fill. And fill. Now, I'm squashed right smack in the middle of the class with no room for error because I've got skinny bitches to my left & right. All of a sudden an 85 lb blur of blond & boobs comes barreling into the room, cranks the sound system and starts screaming for us to do all these crazy moves. I felt like an I Love Lucy episode. Lucy, showing up to the Copacabana with a large head dress on, trying to fit in with all the other dancers. That was me. The instructor never paused, not even for a second. She was either jumping, kicking, punching or shuffling, the entire time. It was a 45 minute class and we were only 90 seconds into it. I was dying. Keep in mind, I work out. Fairly often. You'd have thought I was an 800 lb asthma patient, the way I was dragging myself around the studio. I felt like the Elephant Man. "I am not an animal, I am a HUMAN BEING". Everyone else knew what they were doing. They were KEE-YAHing and shuffling in time with the music. I looked like a Clydesdale. By the time I'd figure out what the hell the instructor was doing, she'd already be onto the next move. Daaahhhrr!!

The final straw came when we had to do this fancy li'l kick where you hop on one foot and then kick with the other. If any of you read an earlier blog of mine titled, "other benefits of child birth" you'll know that when I get on a trampoline, I totally pee my pants. Yes, well, apparently the same is true when I drink a pot of coffee, hop on one foot and then kick with the other. Totally peed on myself. God bless me for trying, I couldn't do it anymore. I gave it my all....and then I peed. So, I snuck out (backwards) with my tail between my legs, horrified to see a group of 60 year old women toward the back of the room. That felt like a kick in the crotch in and of itself. So, I go into the bathroom and once my heart rate started to come down a tad, I started dry heaving. Dry heaving. OK, I am SO NOT A THROWER UPPER!!! Maybe a few times during a pregnancy and once on my 21st birthday, but that's about it. Dry heaving in the bathroom at the Y. after a Kickboxing class.

So, 2 minutes later, I'm in my car. It's 15 minutes after the start of the class. I call my friend. This is the message I left her. "Hi Melissa. It's 9:45. You might recall that I was going to attend the 9:30 cardio kickboxing class. Yeah. About that. Um. I peed my pants and then almost threw up. So, in hindsight, perhaps it's best that you didn't join me today---guess I should go home and do my kegel exercises now, what with my incontinence and all.... BYE".

Toodle. Ooo.