The Joy of Galoshes: This little piggy

This week I joined something called a gym and started something called working out.

Now times have changed because back in my day, 'working out' meant this horrible chore you have to do that is laborious and no fun at all.

But today, 'working out' means something closer to the word 'SPA.' And no, I don't mean the acronym for remembering the chronological order of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. Bu-dum-ching!

Anyone? No?

Ok.

So these days it means 45 minutes of glorious, uninterrupted TIME. BY MYSELF. I just don't care that I'm sweating like a warthog (do they sweat? I should KNOW this - I just went to the zoo! C'mon HILLARY! Get in the game!!).

The intense inner monologue is left over from my group class this morning. I didn't have time to research what I was getting into, I just got it together enough to figure out what time we had to be there and got there.

Lemme tell you sumthin.

This class was not yo mama's Jazzercise.

No offense Mama.

(BTW I still have your Jazzercise sweatshirt from 19whoknowswhat. I guess I thought the world would always have '80s days but I'm beginning to realize that that is probably the equivalent now of me having had an 1880s day when I was a kid. But I'm not sure. I don't do the math in this household.)

This class was not dance based. It was not a place to look cute. It was a place to be STRONG. And kick and box a lot. Which both made more sense when I passed a friend on the way out and she asked if I'd just been to kickboxing class. Ohhhhhh. So that's what I was doing.

Because when I was exhausted and thought I can do this, I'm not in over my head, keep up HILLARY, and the instructor said, "Good warm up guys" I thought maybe I had found the workout for ex-cons or lady wrestlers or something.

At one point we were instructed to punch down toward the right, and apparently we weren't doing it right because the teacher said, "No PUNCH! Like THIS! Not like this. This is cutting ham. We ain't cutting ham. We are beating someone up! Show me how you beat someone up!!"

It was ALL I could do to not call a big ol' TIME OUT and explain that no no no, you see I am here to build endurance so that I have enough energy at the end of each day to CUT THE HAM. Give me the HAM CUTTING workout please. Also, I don't have a way to "show you how I fight." All I have in way of street fighting ability is threatening to NOT FIX THE HAM.

Speaking of ham...

Breakfast with combed new hair 'do: