So today I went to Zumba. It was a new class with an instructor who has never taught it before, although I guess she teaches lots of other stuff there. She was too cute, and I felt bad for her because they didn't publicize the new classes like, at all, and I was the only one there for the first ten minutes. She does things a lot differently than Tina but I think once she's got her routines down it will be a fun class.
Now let's talk about the room we were in.
We were in the studio, which, as I've mentioned before, has a huge mirror in it all over the wall so you can watch yourself workout. Woo hoo.
It's a fat mirror.
Like, a really-super-duper-makes-you-twice-as-wide-as-normal mirror.
I hate it.
I mean, this mirror is my vile arch enemy. I go in to have a nice, fun, sweaty workout and the mirror, it mocks me.
"You're fat" it reminds me, in case I'd started to forget and maybe even, gasp! started to feel good about my body. "You don't belong here. You look stupid doing those moves. Everyone else here is staring at the fat girl trying to dance. Go home, fat girl, and stuff your face with brownies because you'll never look good."
Yeah, it kind of sucks. So as much as I try to ignore the voice coming from the mirror, I always leave the classes held in that studio feeling depressed, like a fat slob who has so far to go I might as well quit now and relegate myself to shopping at Lane Bryant.
But then, I picked Jo up from her playdate at her friend's house and her friend's older sister said, and I quote, "You look like a teenager!"
I wanted to smooch her but I thought that might be weird. So I just said thanks. :)