My Fairy Godmother came to the door!

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We are 5 days from go time!

Both dresses arrive and I open the second one which was my first choice and……I HATE it! The fabric is too white and the wrong blend, the gold chain looks cheap and too big and if that wasn’t enough it has nude boob pads sewn over the center of the chest that not only show through the material but are too small to be anything but oversized pasties. I look back to my alternate and try to find the good in it…. Frankly it doesn’t fit anything like it shows. It is beaded in a geometric pattern which is always a nightmare to alter and it needs a TON of altering. Did I say ton? I meant that it needs to be remade. I can make an overnight bag from the amount of material that needs to be removed from the waist. image

Argh!!!!! I scream. I swear. I throw them on the bed. I throw them on the floor. I hang them up. I scream again. I fold them back up in the box.

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I call *Carol, my best friend but I can tell from the beep that she is on the other line. I leave her a message telling her about the dress debacle and ask her to call me back and talk me off the ledge. I text her pics of the alternate dress so she is prepared to make me feel better. image

Ding-dong goes the doorbell…. Actually it’s a fancy doorbell and it makes this music when it’s rung, but I don’t know how to write music so ding-dong it is. I open the door to find Carol! With a black dress! Now to appreciate this you have to see the big picture. Carol is 5ft tall and tiny all over. She says, “Got your message. I don’t know when I bought this but I am never going to wear it. Never had it altered so here you go, you can have it.” I race into the bathroom to try it… What’s the chance that it will fit? I am 5’5, size 2-4 on the bottom half with a 34F bra size- nothing ever fits properly and what Carol with her 34A would ever be doing with something that could accommodate these cannons is less likely than winning powerball. But yet….. Zipppppppp! Holy Mother Mary of all things good in this world, thank you for seeing me in my time of need! The only alterations needed is for me to take the boob pads out. This dress is smoking. I am smoking. Life is good. I have the perfect Jimmy Choos to wear with it and the perfect Edidi bag. I am sooooo happy right now.

So now we have discussed the dress and the fact that it fits, whatever I do now for exercise and diet only gets me more breathing room. I am no quitter so there is another p90x class that is fabulous and has me crying for mercy and whimpering every time I go up the stairs. Yes! I love the pain!

The next day I decide to get up early and try a body blast class. I don’t know what it is but it’s only an hour. I can so do this….. Except that I am a few minutes late and class has begun on time for once…. And it’s crowded….. And they are doing a lot of choreography….and I don’t speak the language that the instructor uses as she calls out the next sequence… “Grapevine left for 3, then March it up for 4, quarter turn and then an X step”.

What???

Here is where I take out everyone on my side of the room. They are not amused. I try to catch up and there she goes again speaking that strange language. I don’t know what a Mogul is…. I know WHO a mogul is… Just not what… “Pony left for 4″….. Ok clearly this is not the spot for me. I have to get out of here…. Now! But I am stuck in the middle of the room right behind the instructor. I look up at her with an expression of sheer terror on my face. She sees it and replies, “it’s the same sequence in a different direction.” That tells me nothing! I couldn’t do it going forward and I sure as hell can’t do it going to the left. This is hell. This is karma. I have done something very wrong as a child or in the past several lives. Everyone around me wants to kill me and just when I can take it no longer I look back to the instructor and….. She is laughing hysterically at me. She can barely stand up and do her little chain dance because she is doubled over. This is exactly why I belong in the corner where I bother no one.

I don’t understand this! I have great rhythm. I can dance my ass off… Really well. Why can’t I do this? It is a divine mystery to me. Whatever! I believe when the class signed in, they also signed a petition barring me from class next week. I may have caught the words “Temporary Restraining Order” flying around.

Back to yoga on Saturday because I am so sore I can barely sit on the potty and I figure it will be a good stretch. I decide to embrace the annoying breathing and do it louder than everyone else so I only hear myself.

5 days before show time! Tomorrow is Barre and Wednesday is TRX…. Don’t leave me hanging here! We are making book here. 3 to 1, I knock off someone in Barre class. Any takers?

So it continues…..

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I give it a good run before we leave so that I can have a headstart on the disaster that will become my vacation meals.

First, my friend Ana Steele (well one of those names is her true name but to protect the innocent we always give my friends the option of an alias) and I attend a Barre class. Not overly cardio active but I am aching so much from the P90x the day before I can barely get out of my own way, so it is appropriate. My poor gluteus and quads are so sore from the 10,000 squats and lunges they tried to kill me with the day before that when it comes time to work that area with a bender ball, I find myself with a hip/ass cramp and before I can stop it, “SHIT!” (It’s caps because maybe I wasn’t using my inside voice) flies right out of my mouth. See this is exactly why I need private instruction! Ana is used to my nonsense so she just laughs and mouths “potty mouth”…. This is what I get for going to my club for convenience. (I live in a hoity-toity neighborhood and I know they have been dying to kick me out and scratch my barcode from my car since we moved in.) Anyway, I rein it in for the rest of my class.

Ana and I sit on a bench and wait for valet to bring her car around while we look for other class offerings on the schedule. “What about spin?”, she offers. I slowly shake my head and quietly say, “Noooooooo.”
“It burns so many calories”, she says.
“Ana, I would rather take a crab mallet to my vag. No!” To be fair I have taken 1, yes just 1-one-uno-singular spin class. I walked as though I had been violated for days and yes, I used the stupid gel seat. I have many friends who do spin everyday. They promise that it gets better but I don’t see how it could without something changing. I have had 3 children, each labor hurt as much the next, with the exception where I break my tailbone with the first baby and my doctor figures out that if left to cook a baby too long, they get too big for me to deliver and we induce me early for the next two.

Back to spin…. Something must change to avoid this pain if I continue to try spin. What is it? Will I incur so much nerve damage from the impact that it becomes numb? Like permanently? Cue Linkin Park singing “Numb”….. Or worse yet, does it callous? I can’t even expound on that because it’s so distasteful. All I can say is that none of my friends can tell me how spin becomes less traumatic to the girly zone. Spin just isn’t going to be for me. I can pretty much bet the farm on that one.

So the next morning I take a Yoga class. I position myself in the corner with the equipment so no one flicks one drop of sweat on me. I will lose my shit. I would rather see someone vomit than a stranger getting their sweat on me. I have issues, I am completely aware and I am so good with that! Anyway, yoga is lovely but what is that noise? There it goes again! I open my eyes and peer around the room. “Whoooosh”, there it goes again to my left. I peek through my Sun Salutation. “Whoooosh”…. It’s the guy on the next mat. Is he seriously going to breathe like that the whole class? I look up at the clock 55 more minutes of this??? Maybe yoga is not for me…..

My favorite class and activity of all time is Krav Maga. It’s Israeli Hand to Hand combat fighting. Some interesting bruises and it brings out my alter ego. Unfortunately, last year I discovered that when a second away from a head-on impact at nearly 50mph, it’s a really bad idea to use your arm in a locked position to brace yourself from the steering wheel. There were bones sticking up in all different directions. The surgeon did a great job putting it back together even if it is crooked and weak from ligament damage. That was the end of Krav for me…. Sadly enough, if I could do it over I would have just went with a broken nose and I could have had a Megan Fox nose today instead of a jacked-up wrist. I highly advise you to take inventory of your body and keep the weakest link in mind when in a sacrificial position or you too may find yourself investing in bangles and men’s watches!

So I continue searching for my exercise class… Meanwhile I will go back to P90x tomorrow and will have a bar installed next to my potty so I can get up off the toilet after class. 13 days and counting….