kiwords

The other day I went to the gym to try out a class that had caught my eye - Total Kick Boxing! Or was it Turbo? Whatever. I was intrigued. I used to kick box, back in the day. I remembered it being a high energy, tough workout with an excellent level of cool.

As it turns out, I was remembering correctly.

Sadly, what I failed to consider is the fact that I also used to be high energy, tough, and with an excellent level of cool. Now, my major characteristic is that at any given time, I would like a cookie.

When I edged into the class, I started to wonder if I'd made a mistake. The room was filled - FILLED with visitors from the planet Tall and Lovely. They milled their graceful way around the room, lining up in front of the mirror without the tiniest glimmer of self-doubt. WHO can stand in front of seventeen bazillion square feet of mirror without ANY self doubt, I ask you? Residents of the planet Tall and Lovely, that's who.

The instructor came in, a tiny bundle of manic joy at the thought of kick boxing. She cued up the music and started throwing punches with arms that looked like anatomical models to demonstrate arm musculature. The class fell into rhythm behind her, punch, punch, kick, jump, squat...

In the back, I flailed. I tripped and half-punched when I was supposed to be kicking. At one point, everyone turned around and started marching toward the back of the room. From my perspective, it sort of looked like they were advancing on me. And they were not happy. I may have panicked just a tiny little bit. I may have stood there and squeaked.

Probably the WORST part about the class was the discovery that I can no longer summon the Tough Look that makes kick boxing look cool. With the first hard beats that filled the room, the rest of the class took on the persona of...I dunno, Linda Hamilton in Terminator? Eyes narrowed, jaws taut. They were working it. They were scary, in a sort of "Wow, I like her hair" sort of way. I, on the other hand, looked apologetic and squeaky. I have absolutely no kick boxing cred.

It finally ended, and I went home to relive my humiliation for Clay.

"At the end of the class, all these TALL and LOVELY women were sort of clustered around me, assuring me that it gets easier, and I should come back. It was excruciating!" I told him.

"Ok," he said, "but were they reassuring you because you were apologizing?"

"No. Completely unsolicited."

"Oh." There was a moment of silence. "I...I'm sorry."

I'm so going back.