HASAY: Warning, clicking this link may cause uncontrollable exercising. Please consult a doctor before clicking the link. That was the disclaimer.
July already? What the hell, June? Did we say something to piss you off?
So, Casey, the Holy HASAY'er, has decreed that HASAY postings will be reduced from every Monday to the first Monday of the month. This means my penchant for following rules to the letter will now be tested since the months like to sneak in before I can
protest prepare for them.
I have been a regular at the gym for three weeks now and the instructors are even starting to recognize me. The Boot Camp drill sargeant even complimented me on my stepping (which I personally thought was lacking. When it comes to step anything, I usually take it slow so it doesn't take me down.) and then proceeded to get in my face, trying to screw up my concentration. He also demanded perfection on this exercise called side planks. Ever do side planks? You're supposed to lie on your side, raise your upper body up to lean on your arm and then bring the rest of your body up into a straight line or a plank. Guess what? It's almost physically impossible. And he wanted two minutes! A good three or four times! Yeah, I know. Crazy. I told him so too. (Muttering under your breath totally counts. As long as he's still in the room, it does.)
The Zumba class is beginning to get on my nerves for a couple of reasons. First of all, I am the only English speaker in the class. Everyone else is Spanish. Normally, this isn't a complaint for me since I need all the practice I can get to impress my in-laws, but when the instructions for the dance moves are being shouted en espanol, No, better! SLANG, I'm screwed. "Qierda!" "Recha!" Wha? I have to watch the instructor's feet closely to make sure I can keep up, but she's so busy playing up to her mirror image, I honestly thought the class was being Punked the first time I participated in the class. For her cool down, she played Beyonce's "To the Left" song and spent the entire song prancing like an MTV scout was considering her for Ms. Jay-Z's next world tour. I have to control the laugh reflex, which is right above Gag. Also, there is an older woman who also participates in every Monday session and even though I get there before she does and stake out my spot in the back of the room. she must take her place right beside me, no matter how empty the class is. Normally, I would be flattered and a little confused by this, but she has personal space issues in a class where we are constantly on the move. Every time I turn around, she's stealing the air I was going to use for my next breath. So, I started moving around throughout the class, going up one row, turning back. And it goes swimmingly for a few moves until I trip over a sneaker. "Oh, hi! You again!"
Did I mention I'm the only English speaker?
I'm enjoying the Spin class the most. The seat still tries to get fresh with me even though it knows I'm married, but I'm learning to mostly ignore it and focus my hatred instead on the instructor who doesn't seem to sweat no matter how many hills we approach. And perky? Honey, the rest of the class just shoved about a thousand calories out of their pores. Can you at least look a little winded?
Here's the good news. While the scale doesn't seem to acknowledge all my hard work (yet took the fiver I left for it without question), my clothes are fitting a little looser and I feel more toned all round.
STATS: John: Down 3. Up 1. Damn holiday weekends.
Me: Even. Whatver, scale. My slacks are loose in the bum. Don't kill my buzz.
Next Monday's topic: No HASAY, what the hell am I going to write about?