Flex

I skipped my run tonight because of V. Not that anything awful happened. Just because I wanted to pick up that fat little body and kiss that chubby face. And scrub that plump tush in the tub and read him some stories about cats and farm animals. And just love all over him.

Sometimes skipping out is the best thing ever.

And sometimes it’s not. Here’s a good example of why.

‘They’ say it always wise to rotate the side you carry your child on, to balance yourself. I guess I got in the habit of carrying V on my right side, carrying him on my left side just felt awkward. Like that side was my dead side. I am right-handed, not a sinister person. So while carrying V on my left-side freed up my right hand to do, I never felt properly balanced.

So I am a right-sided carrier.

So I’ve been doing a lot of running and spin class lately, which have been toning me up. I’ve been noticing it in my arms, especially my biceps. Damn position 2 and 3 and modified 3!!

I was checking myself out the other day and noticed some nice definition in my upper arms. I must admit I did a bit of flexing in the mirror. Some turns and flexes. A little bit of California posing.

And then a bit of pausing and scrutinizing. And then a puzzled face. And then a face of dawning comprehension.

My biceps are uneven.

Wanna know why?

Because I favour.

And because my son weights 31 pounds. So a constant 31 pounds on one side is guaranteed to mean some sweet muscle-building action.

I publicly flexed at work yesterday and demonstrated my left-sided lack of definition. There was laughter. I don’t blame them!

I either need to go and buy a 30 lb weight and repeatedly exercise with it, day and night. Or (less expensively) just carry V on my other side. Doing that might literally make me walk into walls, I’ll be so off-balanced. Or circles. Or just stand in one spot, looking lost.

Suggestions?

xoxo a.m.

Cardio Win

So in my quest for rejuvenation, I have been hitting up the YMCA pretty hard this week. No more excuses. No more ‘I’m too tired’, ‘It’s too late’ or ‘Oh, M is looking particularly handsome tonight’… none of that!

Monday night I hit up some ‘Cardio Kickboxing’. Firmly planted right in the back of the room, which is kind of like the back of the bus or the back of the lecture hall. Ready for easy and quick escape and near the door.

Hoping to enter the class unnoticed, my plan went sour when the teacher started chatting me up before the class started. Well shit. I confessed my ‘back of the room’ plan and he just laughed at me and slapped me on the shoulder. “You’ll do fine,” he smiled.

Oh great.

I think about 10 minutes of the class was spent (stretched over the whole 45 minutes) was spent with me looking alternately confused and staring blankly at what the people around me were doing. There was a lot of sweating too. But it was a lot of fun.

Next up?

‘Cardio Dance’

*cue laughter*

Post-kickboxing class, I reflected on my lack of rhythm. Cardio dance cemented those thoughts. It turns out that Cardio Dance is a code name for ‘Zumba‘, which is something I have no business doing.

1) I have no rhythm

2) I have no kind of street edge at all and am not able to dance with attitude (or ‘tude’ as the teacher referred to it)

3) As I discovered, I am the whitest person alive.

4) I actually am not sure how to ‘shake my booty’.

5) Going to a sexy dance class, with gyrating crotch moves, booty shakes and pelvic thrusts in my husband’s oldest and most unflattering teeshirt made me slightly self-conscious next to the other pretty young thangs in their YMCA finery.

I wasted a lot of time turning in the wrong directions, facing the wrong way and staring blankly. And laughing at myself (out-loud too. It just was that ridiculous).

And finally?

Tonight was Spin Class.

Walking into the class with 2 other people who also had no idea what they were doing made me feel a little better. Our sweet and perky teacher, who looked like she was about 5, was so enthusiastic about everything I started to feel ok about it.

Class started.

Now here is something I can handle. Just good old fashion sweat.

Sweat combined with pumping bass and pop-music. And a bike. So simple. No fancy footwork. Easy rhythms. I can handle this.

I am in exercise heaven. I might have finally found something to replace Bikram.

45 minutes later, I was soaking and my legs were shaking. *fist pump*

Exercise win!

(and I remembered my vitamin AND flossed my teeth!) Health win as well!!!

* I’ll keep you posted on if I am able to walk tomorrow or not…