After my mini-vacation, I eased my way out of my food coma and back into physical activity with my Monday night Hip Hop class.
I was having a great time, even though after the first 20 minutes I was completely lost and had a hard time keeping up. I have to say, I’m a little surprised at how utterly terrible I am at hip hop. I’m not delusional or anything – I didn’t think I’d be great – but I have rhythm from playing various musical instruments in my day, and I have pretty good balance and coordination (now) thanks to Kung Fu, so I thought I’d be better than I am. Oh well. Moving on…
One of the moves in the routine we were taught last night involved this sort of ‘squat thrust’, but you know, with swag. I did it a few times without issue, and then as we were running through it again with about 10 minutes left in class, my pants split.
That’s right: Once again, I split my damn pants in front of a room full of people.
To be more accurate, they were shorts. Long, black shorts. And I was wearing light pink underwear – not black on black like the last time, unfortunately. Also, this split was not in the crotch, but in the ass. When I eventually got home and surveyed the damage, I found a split about 6 inches long from top to bottom right along the seam, and then another 4 inches across in the middle. Very weird. Very huge.
Ok, so at the end of the routine, everyone goes into their squat, and I hear & feel my pants split and immediately stand back up. Thankfully, I’m in the back of the room, so I don’t think anyone saw what happened. Of course, they all saw me standing while they were on the floor… and then they saw me quickly tell my friend what happened and run from the room… sideways.
I changed my shoes and left in a hurry. A quick reprieve in the elevator allowed me to get a feel for how extensive the damage was, and I could tell it was bad. I then left the building and walked (ran!) the 2 blocks to my car holding my purse behind my back. I’m so sly…
Embarrassing? Yes, of course. But here’s the amazing difference between this event and the last: Even though it would be easy for me to get upset and blame myself for my vacation gluttony, I didn’t think that for a second. I simply blamed the pants for being old and worn out. I was embarrassed because my ass was hanging out, but not because I have a fat ass. Big difference.
The changes in my attitude and self confidence (and, of course, the size of my ass) in the last few years are amazing. And events like this only serve to solidify that fact, rather than send me on a downward spiral.
Of course, now I need some new long shorts that are workout appropriate… and reinforced in the buttocks so as to contain all my swagger.
