Tonight was the first step toward Operation: locate Emma.
Last week I spent several hours trawling through the websites of local gyms and fitness classes. Pricing them up and trying to get a sense of the intensity of the classes. (Well don’t want to go crazy now!) I decided that a Spinning class was needed…it sounds very Yummy Mummy (I attend Spinning, don’t you know!) and I was also curious about this new fad called Zumba.
Dance and fitness would have been right up my street BC, but now? Jumping around (oh the Tenna lady needed!)
Shaking the temple of wobble?
I don’t know if I could do it to society. I have cringed with the rest of the UK at the larger lady shaking her thang on Britain’s got Talent with her top edging its way ever closer to those once perky, but now north facing bosoms, her body still shaking its thang moments after she has stopped.
Well folks that was me tonight, to top it off…I went alone! As I walked down the street, wearing my Primark Joggies, breast vest (it doesn’t ride up n covers the wobbly bits if your top does!), T-shirt (snot smeared from loving babies) and my ever faithful smaller bottom trainers! (I look like the girls in the adverts when wearing them, honest!) I felt the butterflies in my tummy and the urge to turn and run to the comfort of my sofa.
The hoarder could not possibly manage to put the girls to bed on his own Smaller Beautiful would scream all night because she missed me at bed time…oh the excuses went whizzing round my head! And so did the image of me BC and the need to find her again.
As I showed my new gym card at reception and walked into the “sports hall” I braced myself for a room full of Latin goddesses in their lycra and bottoms that wiggled when they wanted them to.
As the music started and the short, muscular lady (who looked older than my grandmother) clapped her hands and started side stepping, I felt a huge grin spread across my face in relief. The room was semi full of ladies with ample sized bouncing bottoms, tummies and other wobbly bits. I got into my groove (Yeah baby!) and unleashed my bouncy Latin goddessness on Newcastle!
Most of the steps were easy enough to follow, I found that the faster we went the easier I found it, once or twice I had to stop to try to pick up the moves and as soon as I got it, the tanned wrinkly instructor changed to something new.
As I stood in the middle of the room (nope not at the back!) on my left leg, shaking my right leg I wondered if she did this on purpose and was making these steps up as she went along. As we weebles bounced and shimmied (read as wobbled) and did our thang following the leader (Leader Leader….jump and wave!) I caught her laughing. I have the aged instructor sussed!
As it is bank holiday next week the Zumba class is not on and I am honestly gutted, this won’t last for long though as I have Pushy Mothers tomorrow and my new spinning class on Thursday. Operation: locate Emma is well and truly underway.