Wednesday, November 19, 2014
LET IT BE KNOWN : I love group exercise classes. Perhaps more than I love actually exercising. Something about being able to look at yourself in the mirror while spying on other people + listening to the instructor deep breathe...mmmm, it's like cheap therapy.
SO. Tonight. Hip-hop cardio.
It was an odd choice seeing as I am not much of a dancer. I mean, I dance sometimes. Let's just put it this way : I was probably the only kid at a high school dance that could tell you if it was catered or not + by who. Refreshment tables are my jam. (Junior year homecoming was catered by Wingers, if you were curious). But I thought, why not? How bad could this be?
As I walked in, the instructor yelled, "WHAT TIME IS IT?!" and the class answered, "PARTY TIME!" Typically I try to avoid social settings in which there is shouting in unison, so this was my first sign of my hip-hop cardio doom.
But I got comfortable and made my way to the back...noting that I was one of the only ones not wearing hoop earrings +/or a sparkly headband. The instructor continued into a routine where she pumped + wiggled + threw peace signs while sporting a 'I'm a hot dancer' (she was) face to signal, "TWO MORE BODY ROLLS!" She was into it (+ wearing a headset which really puts you in a Brittney Spears a la early 2000's kind of mood. Like, can they hand those out at the beginning of class please?!) + made me want to be more into it. If only.
At one point, I felt like the whole class was reprising their middle school talent show performances. There was sweat dripping + hips shaking + bodies bumping. They were all so good + so in sync. I felt so lost. It reminded me of my short stint in the orchestra where the conductor told us during a song that 'if we were lost, just pluck G.' I proceeded to pluck G for the entire semester no matter the song. ...this doubly confirms that my children will definitely never be first chair violinists because Jeff just told me that his conductor made him sit behind a chalkboard during a concert because he hadn't memorized the music. Or because he is brown. TANGENT OVER.
The instructor then led us into a final dance where I was starting to finally loosen up + told us that when she yelled SINGLE we should yell back DOUBLE. During the second SINGLE, I decided to yell back "I'm married!" then thanked the heavens above that no one could hear me over the bass. WHAT WAS THAT BROOKE?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!
The class ended + I beelined it out of there. WOOF. It was hard.
This is just one long way of saying, DEAR AVERY : want to go to Hip-Hop cardio with me Monday + Wednesdays at 6?! BODY ROLLS.
or, more probably,
I'm moving to Elmore City! You can put this baby in a corner indefinitely.
(truth : I've never seen Footloose. Am I getting this reference correct?)