One hour later.
Yoga mat under my arm, I pass the laundry room heading into the garage, on my way to a Body Flow class (Yoga slash Pilates slash Tai Chi) but I caught a glimpse of something to my right that forced me to stop dead in my tracks. Husband, looking seriously contemplative, was standing in front of the machines. He was fidgeting with a few things, in random order – a Scotch pad, several wadded up paper towels and rags, Windex and
Is he flipping out of his mind?!?
I took one step backwards and saw the damage.
My first thought was we're all very fortunate that I’m in a you-can’t-ruffle-my-feathers frame of mind. Otherwise, I would have shot straight up through the roof and exploded in space.
The only words I could muster before I slammed the door behind me were, “You’d better order a new door for that machine and have someone install it because I don’t want you to ever touch it again…blah blah blah…”
I let it go. Everyone is entitled to experience a brain fart now and then.
Letting it go is new to me.
In Body Flow class, there’s an overly enthusiastic, know-it-all perky young blonde with slender limbs who can contort her body like no other. I’ll even stop my balancing act to watch her perform. It doesn’t matter that I stop because I can't maintain my balance anyway. During the balancing track I can look around to see what I can’t do. Hey, but that’s OK. I let it go.
The perky gal had the audacity to ask the teacher, “Why don’t we do inversions?” Yes, she meant as in standing on your head and I almost choked. The teacher reminded her that the class is for everyone and not everyone can stand or should stand on their heads. Oh, I wanted to be bold enough to laugh out loud; however, I let it go, but I would love to fake leaning into her and watch her topple over during her Sun Warrior pose. Yeah!
I replied to an invitation to come to a Body Pump class (intense exercise with weights), “When I can bend over without grunting and kiss my knees again, I’ll join you in Body Pump.” And that’s the way it is.
Getting fit is hard work and I’m not too good at folding myself into a pretzel shape. My middle region gets in the way.
I keep going.
And letting it go. My embarrassment, at times...
Hoodies, come here! Come baaaaack! (kicking dirt, dammit) ;-)