Here! is where you start to pay! In SWEAT!

Okay, so I started taking this class called Power Stretch. If you’ve heard of Power Barre, it’s kind of like that without the cardio. A hybrid of ballet, pilates and yoga. And as I’m categorically opposed to cardio in all forms, I thought this might work. Since I’m in my 40s and need to start worrying about things like falling and breaking a hip. And it doesn’t it has that Black Swan appeal, and yoga without the Om-business. What could be bad about that?

Well, the moment when she tells you to lie on your stomach and stick your big toe in your ear. Okay, it’s not that bad. But I’m not super-flexible to start with, so I went in with the attitude that I’ll do my best in class, and try not to complain too hard when I feel like a rubber band that’s been wound too tight the next day. Or two days. Okay, as long as I’m back to normal by the next class, that should be fine.

The teacher is like a cross between a Texas cheerleading coach and a white Debbie Allen. Sort of like the perfect behind, perky yet firm. She keeps things moving pretty fast. Possibly because she doesn’t want you to have time to think, “Hey, wait, can I do that?” And lawd help ya if she catches you not pointing when you should be pointing, or flexing when you should be flexing. But, then again, she’s pretty sympathetic when you can’t achieve perfection, as long as you’re trying. “Okay, leg stretched , flex your foot, and grab your toes. Or your calf if that’s easier. . . Or your knee.” Bless her heart for not looking at me on that one.

I hurt like hell the next day. And I hate it when I can’t do stuff right. So I hate about all 45 minutes. But I’ve told myself, Rome wasn’t bent in half in a day. So I’ll give it a full cycle, and see what I think at the end. No thinking until then. And maybe I’ll come out with that perky yet firm butt. Probably not. But a girl can dream.