I am so glad KJ invited me to Muscle Class last night at the YMCA! I needed a reason to leave the house again after our 2 hour excursion to get the oil changed in the morning. (The boys actually behaved unbelievably well for 1 hour and 52 minutes. The last 8 minutes were excruciating and embarrassing, but I can't blame the boys!)
Months ago, before I started blogging, I compiled a list of some of my favorite fun ladies at the YMCA. The over-40 gem dancing up on the gay male Zumba instructor, the Eastern European mail-order bride with huge breasts that never moved, the woman wearing a strapless bra and lace tank top more suitable for a walk of shame than a step class. But it's been a few months and we must not be going to the same classes anymore since I changed my schedule to night instead of morning classes.
The class at the YMCA was taught by a substitute last night, and offered all sorts of amusement.
First note to the instructor: your music is horribly out of date. As the instructor, you are allowed to bring any music you wish for the class, but may I gently suggest that bringing a mix-tape might mean your musical selections are well behind the times. It is your right to bring music from the early 90's if you want, but please at least follow the beat of the music you have selected! I could barely keep a straight face as she randomly bounced all over, and the class was split between following her rhythm or following the music. We stretched to Night at the Roxbury (1993) and did push-ups to I'm a Barbie Girl (1997).
Second note to the instructor: your attire is slightly inappropriate. We've all made some poor choices in gym attire at one point or another (i.e. the entire leotard/tights era of the 1980's) but there are a few wardrobe malfunctions you probably want to avoid while leading a class. If you sweat enough to show panty lines, may I suggest more modest briefs or boyshorts instead of a thong? When planning the workout, if you're including the fire-hydrant lift for outer thighs and glutes, I suggest shorts long enough to cover your fake-tanning lines. I understand jewelry is a matter of personal taste, so I'll leave the decision on huge gold hoop earrings up to you, though clearly you've made that decision already.
Last note to the instructor. We can't understand you while you're chomping on your gum. Gum is not allowed in the YMCA, and I'm assuming this applies to instructors as well as participants.
A note to the lovely woman next to me in class: Don't do plow in shorts either. Not only were we not doing plow in class, we were all treated to a lovely view up your shorts as well.
Thank you for the hour of entertainment, I'm not sure I could have made it through class without your shenanigans to keep my mind off my burning thighs.