The Day I Went To A Gym

I don’t know why I said yes.

Well.

I kind of do.

But, that’s probably a story for another post.

All I know is

on a Friday afternoon I found myself wearing some kind of black legging thing, a running skirt, a t-shirt and a confused look on my face.

Mirrors lined one wall.

People were sweating

and I felt like the first day of seventh grade.

I was in a Zumba class.

If you know me,

you know a few things about me.

I don’t really do group exercise.

I don’t actually do exercise.

I have less rhythm than a telephone pole.

I cannot follow exercise directions.

Thank goodness for my friend Katie to my right.

You guys.

There was dance music.  Hips swirling.  Scarves.  Multiple tasks to complete at the exact same time.

Bewildered.

I think that would describe me.

I guarantee I looked comical.

I mean, I could see that for myself in the thirty-two mirrors reflecting my lack of self-coordination and my poor dancing form.

At one point I intentionally looked directly at the faces of the six other women (and one brave guy).

And you know what?

No one was looking at me.

No one.

So I could relax my uncoordinated self-concious self.  I could grin at my friend Katie who tied her exercise scarf around her neck in a frivolous bow instead of swiping it through the air.

I could pretend I had rhythm and I could ignore the bizarre-o lyrics to the pulsating music.

I laughed and side stepped and stayed off beat the entire rest of the class.

I think I had fun.

But mostly – I think I tried something new and was glad that I had.

Just wait til I tell you about my attempt at a yoga class.