I am quite sure that there are a great number of people who roll their eyes when I talk about Aerobic Dance Class. “We get it, woman, you like to dance aerobically, ENOUGH ALREADY!” I know. I KNOW, and yet, I can’t stop myself from writing about it.
I don’t write about every single class, because that would be annoying, but every once in a while, something brilliant will happen (DANCE OFF!) or I’ll have a “light bulb” moment whilst doing a “Funky Chicken” type move and I must write about it.
(Speaking of the Funky Chicken, my dad believes in “dancing in the spirit.” Every once in a while, whilst leading the worship, the spirit will move him and he’ll began to dance…in the spirit. Anyway, one Sunday after church, we went out to lunch with a few of the people from the congregation. That Sunday, my dad, along with a few of the others who weren’t afraid to be called “Jesus Freaks”, had danced during one of the songs about Dancing for Jesus. One of the men decided to compliment my Dad’s totally awesome dancing style.
“You looked pretty good up there, Pastor. Where’d you learn those moves? Especially that one where you were jumping really high, what’s that move called? The Funky Chicken?”
I think I spit my meatballs out because a)He was DEAD serious b)I could tell my dad was so proud, but trying to remain humble c) He said “Funky Chicken.”)
(Anyway. I am not here to write about my dad’s Awesome Moves, but about MY awesome moves.)
Last week, my AD instructor busted out with The White People Dances, specifically, The Irish Dance.
As soon as Anna said “Irish Dance” I mourned for my calves and how they would feel in the morning. Have you people seen the River Dance? All of those cute little jumping movements that they do whilst holding their hands sweetly at their sides?
Crap. My calves! They ache!
Confession: I almost cried during The Irish Dance. (FUCK YOU IRISH MUSIC!) I couldn’t explain it if I tried. One minute, I’m doing this crazy ass “white people” move in which I’m jumping up and down at a very high rate of speed and the next there are tears welling up in my eyes because of the sound of those asshole bagpipes. (Fuck you, bag pipes!) I do not know what came over me, but I was THIS CLOSE to “losing it” and I have no idea why. (Although, I’m pretty sure it was the damn bagpipes.)
Confession #2: I took a short break after writing confession #1 so that I could go unload the dishwasher and you know how my shitty cabinets do not close all of the way? Well, I was coming up from putting something in the bottom cabinet and I whacked the front side of my hide head on with the corner of the cabinet and I thought I split it open and while I didn’t get all “OMG! I AM PARALYZED!” like I did when I fell off of the plastic chair, I DID run to the mirror to see if there was blood. There was NOT blood, but there was, however, a “mark” and um, I feel a little dizzy now and um, it’s freaking me out because OMG! I COULD HAVE A BRAIN BLEED AND NOT KNOW IT!
Confession #3: I’m not doing so well with “The Weight Loss” and have put on a significant amount of weight. 15 pounds, but it looks like a lot more than that, because all of the toning that happened with the weight training has turned to fat and ack, it’s not good. I took a picture that I planned on posting, but, I feel embarrassed to post it right now. Maybe tomorrow. Why did I gain weight back? I’ll tell you why. I got sick of going to the gym every night (but I did not get tired of Aerobic Dance and continue to go to that, but, 2 nights a week of AD does NOTHING for weight loss. Especially when one is eating assloads of bread.) I got sick of counting points. I got sick of worrying about every single thing that I put in my mouth. I got sick of talking about weight loss, of thinking about it every waking minute of every single day. I got tired of ALL OF IT and I gave up and gave in to my desires to eat whatever I wanted and to be lazy. I just said “screw it all.”
Of course, I regret it now. All of that hard work, down the drain. Ok, not all of it, I’m no where NEAR as fat as I was when I started this journey, but still. I should be at my goal by now and I’m not. That pisses me off.
I plan on getting back “with the program” because I felt so much better when I was eating healthy and working out. And, as pissed off as I am, I refuse to let this stop me from reaching my goal. I’ve had a major setback, but it’s not the end of the world. (It is, however, the end of wearing the really cute skirts I had bought from Old Navy for at LEAST a month. Damn it.)
Confession #4: I am in love with Arbor Mist Sangria.
Confession #5: I have no idea how to end this post, so I’m just going to go ahead and end it here.
I was here looking at your kitchen cabinet pictures and yes, they are butt ugly. But if I lived in SoCal I would still come to visit you. It is your landlord's fault that your kitchen looks like that. What an asshole. I hope you and your family find another place to rent where your landlord cares about the house, and isn't just taking your money and buying crack with it.