By Megan Robb
While I can’t exactly turn myself into bird/woman hybrid (much to the dismay of a good portion of our Internet traffic), the New Year does lend itself to a much easier physical transformation: going back to the gym. I stopped exercising after my sister’s wedding at the end of the summer. I’m pretty sure a lot of people at that wedding did the same. But as part of my ever-present quest to be more sociable, I bought a coupon for eight classes at a local women’s gym on Groupon. I have six classes left.
So far, not so good.
The first class was a disaster, but that’s my fault. I knew nothing about Zumba other than that stupid infomercial that said it was “a fun dance party”. Zumba is a fun dance party if your day job is a back-up dancer for Jennifer Lopez. You have to have the moves and the pace down pat. I looked like the ballet episode of I Love Lucy with “Sexy and I Know It” as the soundtrack.
I was a mess.
For my next class I decided to go with something less intense: yoga. I came early. I waited outside the classroom, thinking maybe I could make conversation before class. It wasn’t long before I noticed that there were quite a few pregnant women coming in. It to a point where I starting looking for women who didn’t appear to be in at least their third trimester.
Yeah, I had joined a yoga class for pregnant women. The letters “HM” that appeared on the gym’s calendar next to “Yoga” stood for “Healthy Moms”. Of course. The women in the class were nice enough, but pregnant women really like talking about their symptoms. I couldn’t even pretend I was only a few weeks along (the way I do when I park in the “expectant moms” spaces outside Babies R Us) because I didn’t know what I should be complaining about.
When the conversation turned to whether one woman was having early contractions or if it was just gas, I knew I didn’t fit in. Tomorrow I’m headed for a spin class. I don’t know what’s going to happen. For all I know it’s Spin for Diabetics or Spin for the Especially Advanced.
Somehow I’ll find a way to exercise and to make friends, even if I can’t do both at the same time.
Contributing writer Megan Robb is a writer, consultant and editor living in Raleigh, North Carolina. Her articles can be found at divot.com, wordhusterink.com, and cracked.com, as well as her personal website, megan-robb-writer.webs.com