BALLET
Da fuk!!!!???????

What is this crazy form of torture disguised as exercise and entertainment???
This may be the single most difficult exercise I have ever done. My body is not designed to move like that!!!!

It was a beginners class but I think I may have misunderstood the word “beginner”. It seemed like every other person in the class had not only done
The class before, but were ballet child prodigies in their day!!
I had no idea what the hell was going on. The teacher would be talking directly to me and I just was incapable of understanding the words she was saying. I am sure it was English, but just not sure. It may be that the entire time I was there I was busy mentally planning my escape through the tiny windows or swinging from the roof. Who knows!!

How are your feet supposed to turn out like that? And why is double time so fast? And what is there an “idiots guide”?

Parents who send their children to ballet classes- what are you doing? This is a form of torture!! Love your children!!! Lol

On a positive note. One of the older ladies from the class knocked on my car window as I was about to drive home to let me know that male ballet dancers have the best stamina in bed out of every sportsmen!!! Not sure what study she is quoting but I am interested in being a guineapig 😉

Guys remember that time I did some exercise? I tried it again today
——————-
SWING CLASS (coz y’all know I can’t do anything normal!!)

So I was bored on Netflix and ended up watching some totally random documentary on swing and Lindy hop and Charleston. And I was all like “bitches please, I can do that. I’ve been to New Orleans!!”.
Some at 3am, I ended up googling where the closest class was. Oh 10 minutes walk away. Take my money.

So I just got back and I may have slightly overestimated how good I would be at swing dancing. Like maybe a little bit. Maybe….. ok fine Facebook. A lot. I grossly overestimated how good I would be at swing dancing based on a week in NOLA.

So I turn up to the class and I’m pretty sure every single guy waiting in line I have seen on Tinder at one time or another. So I’m awkwardly hiding my 6ft self under my scarf like a Russian babushka. (Sidenote. I swipe yes to everyone, it’s not like I hurt their feelings!!).

So the lovely lady checking people in asks if I’d like a student discount. Yes i would love one, but sadly I’m not a student anymore. But thank you for thinking me young. I may actually love you right now.

So I rock on and have to write my name on a sticky label (like a boss), and it gets me thinking. Should I just make up a new persona? Like decide to encompass someone totally different. Someone who can swing dance. So I start to write “Dotty” (it just fell like an authentic swing dance name to me), but then I thought better of it (because really, what if all these tinder guys in the class think I was catfished?). So now I have an awkward “D” at the beginning which I have to try and turn into a “K” which fails. So now it looks like either my name is “Dim” or I can’t spell “Kim”!!!!

So I’m standing in the circle of beginners and these people have clearly all been here before. They know each other. They have inner jokes. They are laughing at each other’s jokes much too much. I decide I hate them and decide to act cool.

My go to “cool” reference is the brooklyn sleaze bag in Grease 2 who is trying to seduce the girl in the bunker. I think this public admittance probably says a lot more about me than it should do…… or I just really have a thing for brooklyn accents and sleaze bags. But Lordy, I love that character.

Anyway I digress. So I’m standing there being as “cool” as I can (without the need for a bunker), and start planning an escape plan in my head. Right, if I stand right by this door, I can sneak out when it gets “too much”!!. So the class is starting, and it’s packed and the tutor guy comes up to me and “leads me by the hand” to the other side of the room. Away from the door!!! Away from my escape route!!!

What now people? How the hell do I get out of this room? I’m bloody trapped!!.

So the class begins and we are first asked if we want to be the “leader” or “follower”. And I’m all like “bitch please, I’m a natural born leader. Until the instructor says “the “leaders” will be leading the dance”. Girl, my ass has never moved so fast to the follower side of the room.

We were made to stand in rows and of course, I positioned myself at the back. “Tall girls at the back ladies. Tall girls at the back.”

So, we go over a couple of moves and i legit can’t do it. Those of you who have followed my previous exercise “misadventures” will remember that I don’t learn things fast!! When I do learn something, I’ll never forget it. But it does take it Sweet time going into my brain.

“Phew”, I thought. “Noone will see how terrible I am”, until I heard the dreaded words “everyone at the back now come to the front!!”.

So, I’m now leading the class with the wrong dance moves. Swallow me world.

It’s then time to pair off and practice what we have learned. As I’m eyeing all the boys up and down I see Sam. I defo haven’t seen him on tinder before probably because he is older than everyone in the room combined. All those tinder boys looking hot and fresh, and I pick the 78 year old as my dance partner!!
Out of all the boys in the room, I wanted a man to teach me to swing!! He was there when swing dancing began after all!! 😉
Sam knew what he was doing. He claimed to be a beginner (but we all know he was jsut there to get his studly self seen by the ladies). He played me like a fiddle and I loved every minute of it. I only kicked him once (go Kim).

So my swing vaginity was taken by a 78 year old man and I couldn’t have loved it more. We did get to swap partners, but I’ll never forget my first!!

Play it again Sam

Exercise 0
Kim 0
Sam 1

Today I had a run.
Yes dear reader. You read that correctly. I’ll give you a moment to get back off the ground.
Before I go on, I must add that it was accidental.

So today was shit (see previous post), so I wanted to go for a swim this morning. Walked my pretty ass to the sports Centre this morning swiped my card and the fuckers wouldn’t let me in. Turned out her before 12, it’s for over 60’s only!!! Like what the hell? Surely that’s age discrimination?
So I tried to sweet talk myself into the pool and nobody would believe that I was over 60…. I don’t understand why!!
So I was like, fine….. I’ll use the gym. They wouldn’t let me into the gym as my membership had accidentally expired. So I’m all like, “ummm, no it hasn’t”, and they are all like “yes it has”, and I’m like “get me a manager!!”, and they are all like “ok”.
So anyway, we kinda, sorta have a resolution but I have to go home and look at my statements as to when I last paid.
I walked home and just lost the will to live and watched Netflix.
I then ate all the food in my house and hugged dogs.

So after a few hours, Chaplin was giving me evils and as he wouldn’t walk himself, I decided to be a responsible dog owner and take the big man out.

We went on our usual walk along the river Thames. For some reason today, Chaplin was filled with mischief and he just kept running about like a maniac. I took him to his beach and he just refused to run around at all. It was annoyingly peak tourist time/ peak drunk businessmen along the river time and I just looked like a total twat standing on the beach with a dog who refused to move. So to entice Chaplin to move, I decided to have a little run along the beach to get him moving. This was my first mistake.
Running on the beach with a dog is fun, drunk businessmen cheering us on was mortifying, tourists taking our picture was embarrassing however, Chaplin loved it.
The problem with sandy beaches is the sand. So once we were done, I needed to take my cheap ass fake Converse trainers off and get the sand out. Of course I wasn’t wearing any socks… like why would I?
So Chaplin was still expecting a walk, so we started off along the Thames again. Checking out the buskers, saying hi to children (Chaplin, not me), and swearing at runners (mostly me, but a little bit Chaplin) who were reenacting the psychological warfare from “Apocalypse Now” with their loud obnoxious music.

We just kept walking, and walking, and walking until 2 hours had gone by, and I was pretty sure we weren’t in London anymore.
My feet were killing me (and still sandy), and I had been playing the same song on repeat continuously that I was beginning to question my sanity.

So we sat on a bench and watched the sun set, and got a fucking taxi home

I have concluded that I am totally allergic to exercise- it actually makes me want to vomit.

So my friend asked me to join her at spin class tonight and like a tool/fool I said “yes, sure, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

Apparently the worst thing that could happen was not within the realms of my imagination!!

I thought yesterday’s work out was torture but today was even worse.

Like a smart person, I took a few pain killers before I saw the gym, because you know, abs!!
Apparently this wasn’t enough to deal with the torture that was about to begin.

As a child, I wanted to be a spy. I still think about it every time I watch an espionage movie. I wouldn’t break under torture, under the threat of being killed, or limbs being removed. I would NEVER give up government secrets under any circumstances…….until they put me on a spin bike!!! Under those circumstances, I would tell them anything they wanted to know.

The instructor was a lovely friendly lady who appeared to have had too many Xanax pills as there is no way someone is naturally that perky (unless they were allowed to wake up in a room full of puppies).

She spoke us through all the necessaries of the bike. This is where I started to zone out. I knew how to use a bike dammit. I used to cycle the streets of Brooklyn and Manhattan without needing a manual, I got this spinning shit. How wrong I was.

Apparently I didn’t even know the most basic principle of bike riding-how to sit down on the bike!!!

No matter how I sat down, waves of pain shot up my ass. What the f*$k??? I couldn’t even sit on the bike??? This was gonna be a problem.
Turns out I have a very delicate bottom…. Like a peach🍑.

The next hour took us on a journey through the French Alps, Sweden and Germany as we were supposed to imagine ourselves having super awesome journeys on our bikes through these amazing places. Sadly, All I could think about were clouds. My bum sitting on lovely soft clouds instead of the wedge of pain between my ass!!!

I tried to do the only thing I could think of to reduce the pain, alternating between left bum cheek and right bum cheek. This worked for a while till both “cheeks” decided to protest this ridiculous treatment and just clenched and refused to work anymore.

Drastic times mean drastic measures. I took off my t-shirt and sat on it!!! That stupid piece of crap tshirt only seemed to make things worse so I asked my partner in crime for her towel…. To sit on. Even though we were cycling in the dark (or just pretending in my case) I could still see the weird look Jess gave me when I requested an ass towel. She legit thinks I am nuts now!

Time on bike: 2 minutes
Time in purgatory: 200 years

My fav part of spinning class was the not sitting on the bike part

#nailedit

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So as I can’t exercise post surgery, I thought I would make an attempt to at least eat healthily.

Grainy, salady, quinoa-ish salad was made.

Supposedly the recipe served  4- 6 but I really had no issues eating it all myself. Typo maybe?