After the holidays I was determined to really dig into my fitness goals. I went back to using Weight Watchers. It was easier this time. I started using my gym membership again. I wanted this to work.

It's harder for me to lose pounds. I tend to get solid, rather than trim. Nothing shows up on the scale but the toning in my body becomes more obvious over time. My weaknesses are chocolate and soda. I was doing really well with the chocolate part, but stress and that wonderful monthly event prompted me to dig into an entire Milka chocolate bar Thursday.

Didn't regret a second.

But I also knew that I was going to have to make up for it. Friday I went to the gym and got on the stairmaster. I hate that thing. We don't master it. It masters us. Still, it's an effective machine, and I somehow managed to do 21 minutes instead of my normal ten.

Then Steve showed up.

Steve is my buddy, my friend. He joined the same gym when I showed him around. He's been a great support. When he told me he wanted to try a new class, I thought about all the times he's gotten me through and I wanted to return the favor. The class was an hour, sure, but I thought, "Why not?"


There were push ups. There were jumping jacks. There were jumping jacks whilst doing push ups. I'm a firm believer in knowing your limits and modifying accordingly during a routine, but holy mother of god, there are no getting out of push up jumping jack combos.

Then the exercise band came out. It has handles. You hold them at your hips and step on the green elastic of doom and do resistance training. Standing on it wasn't that bad. It's when we had to lay down that things really went out the window. We were instructed to stick our feet up in the air, band pulled across them, then crossed in an x shape. Every time we widened our legs, we also pulled to the side.

If you have shoes with good tread, this is easy.

I did not have good tread, and all I saw was a flash of green before the band snapped me right in the forehead.

There I was, in pain, rolling on my back like a red-faced turtle, when I happened to look up at the instructor's face, who had coincidentally come to stand next to me just as all this went down. She was struggling so hard not to laugh SHE was red in the face.

It is for this reason that I am determined to go back. I cannot let that be the last image she has of me. If it weren't for the three ibuprofen I took before going to bed, I wouldn't have been able to get out of it again. As it is I'm walking around stiff as a board and longing for my hot water bottle.

But this is war now. I will get better. I'll get so good she'll be impressed and THEN I'll quit. Go out on a high note.

Or so I tell myself. Instinct warns that it's probably one of those classes you can never escape once you start.