Wednesday, December 11, 2013
But last night at the Italian Spitfire's Tuesday night class (which is always my favorite, I have so many pals in this class now), I finally, finally felt my equilibrium return. I still got tired but not as quickly, and I shook my groove thang and felt fully there.
The Spitfire is now in the habit of calling up people to zumba alongside her — if it's a song that involves "fast feet" (rapid jogging in place) and someone's lifting her knees especially high, for example, she will likely find herself up at the front. We always applaud and cheer that person so it doesn't feel (as) horrifying.
And last night the Spitfire had me come up and lead the cool-down next to her as Cher sang "Welcome to Burlesque." "Watch," the Spitfire told the class, "and you're gonna see what sexy is. Show 'em how it's done, Lady C!" And here's me, in all my fat, frumpy, middle-aged glory, bringing sexy back.
Woo-hoo! It did feel good.
My weight is holding at my current set point, I'm leaving my cuticles alone for the most part, and I've made a good jump on Christmas prep.
Now if I could only stay home at night, curl up on m couch, light my Christmas candles, and sip some eggnog! That's my holiday dream . . . but I have to go out every night this week, and I'm hosting my annual Caroling Party a week from tomorrow.
I guess it's good to be busy and active . . . ?
(That is the sound of me trying to convince myself.)
Today I'm doing some more Christmas shopping, ironing Mimosa's voluminous skirt for tonight's concert (I hemmed it yesterday — she tried on her whole Madrigals costume, blouse and vest and skirt, and I burst into tears; Madrigals has been my goal for her since I first saw them perform when she was 11, and now she's not only a sophomore Madrigal, she's a soloist!), and figuring out the best way to reheat pork chops for dinner without overcooking them.
In other words — nothin' but good times ahead.