Three things happened yesterday to totally screw with my comfort zone. All of them in the space on an hour. All of them related to the gym. All them having a serious impact on my self esteem. Seriously.
Comfort zone challenge number one – mumblers.
Because of other commitments I couldn’t wait for my 10.30 boxercise class so decided to turn up at 9.30 instead to see what was on. On the way I stopped for groceries. I walked the streets in my fabulously slim fitting exercise clothes. I am firming up. I felt good. When I entered the gym I raced to the bathroom to wee. No point jumping around on even a partially full bladder. Age is not kind in that department. I did my business then stood in front of the mirror to check out the gym bod. Not too bad. Not perfect, but getting closer. Arms are finally firming up. Tummy getting tighter. Calves are looking muscular. That’s when I saw it. What?! It can’t be!! I’ve been walking around the streets exposing that!! Nooooooo. There it was. No denying it. A very prominent camel toe. You know, I had the whole axe wound thing going on. Now ladies, no matter what age, no matter what decade, no matter what country, there is nothing remotely glamorous about seeing the outline of your lady pouch. There is no excuse for mumbling!! If you are walking down the street and we can see your lips moving, we wanna be able to hear what you’re saying (know what I mean?). Mumble pants must be banished!!! So there I was. Mumbling away. And I hadn’t even entered the gym yet. Emergency action required. Must stuff undies with toilet paper to smooth it out.
Comfort zone challenge number two – complete lack of coordination.
So it turns out that the 9.30 class is something called Body Jam which is quoted as being “an addictive fusion of the latest dance and hottest new sounds”. The little side note said it was for all levels. Cool. I’m a cheer coach. How hard can this be? We started. It was fun!! What a great class. Good move! Yep. Stealing that one for next years poms routine. Oooh. And that one. Cool. Getting jiggy with it. Step ball change. Bounce bounce, step ball change. Add some arms. Maybe. Starting to feel like a schizophrenic octopus. Managing though. And then she declared the little warm up was over and it was time to get started. Ohhhhhh. And that is where the fun ended. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t manage the moves. And just as I was halfway to learning the move she would speed it up and add another bit. People were body jamming all around me. How come they could do it? Why can’t I do this? I decided to drop the arms. Perhaps if I just work on my legs. Nope. It was the most excruciating 45 minutes ever. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m a cheer coach! Holy hell. My poor cheerleaders. As I watched myself in the mirror I sank further into despair. I have a camel toe AND I can’t dance.
Comfort zone challenge number three – I failed
Tony Robbins says that there is no such thing as failure – just a different result. And if you actually remove the word fail from the English language it makes for a more confident existence. Yeah, well, I know that the only true way to fail at something is to quit. That’s a fact. And that’s what I did. Notice how I said up there that is was the most excruciating 45 minutes ever? Well the class was an hour. Yep I left. My camel toe and I mumbled our way out the door before the class was over. I quit. Now this is seriously challenging because I never quit at anything. Well, hardly ever. Ask Mum. Mum, do I ever quit at anything? Ask my best friend. Cathy, since you’ve known me, have I ever quit? Ask my husband. Derek, am I a quitter? Nope. If I commit myself to something I do it no matter how tough it is or miserable it makes me. I see it through to the end and to the best of my ability. I don’t quit. Until yesterday. And now my self esteem has taken a beating, partially because I had been showing off my axe wound to the world, also because I thought I could at least dance a little bit, but mostly because I quit. If only I’d stayed for that extra 15 minutes. It would have been over. I would have accomplished. Shit. FFS. I’m so not a quitter. Damn it!! You know what this means, don’t you. I’m going to have to bloody go back next week and do it all again. FUCK!!!!!
(And the self-pity this-is-too-hard and God-I’m-a-loser sobbing begins ….)
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