And kick 2, 3…

The hubs and I are taking an aerobics class. I am thrilled! He is not. I feel this class does 2 things: it gets us out of the house and it gives me an excuse 2 nights a week to do nothing at home – mainly because I can’t move my body afterwards.

Our instructor is the quintessential aerobics instructor. She bounces around with endless energy and catapults into the air just to do a simple foot change. She’s also very nice and doesn’t call you out for disrupting the class when you march the wrong way, etc. I really like this class. It’s so easy for me to come home, ass cheeks hit the couch and end of story.

After our first class I say to the hubs , “That was awesome!  We should take a class every night!” The hubs said “Are you on crack? We nearly died in there.” I scoffed. However, at 3am, when the dog pressed his cold snout against my face, signaling his desire to pee or chase a leaf that looked suspicious, I found myself barely able to walk. And the day after that, aye carumba (Latin for shit, everything hurts). I dropped something on the floor and tears came to my eyes at the thought of picking it up.

I did encounter muscle spasms and body cramps during class. I have issues with keeping my potassium up…another reason why I should eat vegetables. So I’m hitting the green juice pretty hard lately for a speed injection of potassium. 

That’s it for now…4 more, 3 more….

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