This post was actually written a month or so ago, just before the stone brought my blogging to a screeching halt. I hadn't had a chance to edit it, and actually forgot about completely until today. So, while it's not new news, it's definitely earth-shattering and, I am sure, highly relevant to the lives of all my readers (both of you!)
This morning I gave birth to a bicycle. At least, that's how I felt at several points during the spinning class I took this morning. I will be more specific since I've already made an as out of myself once today (that I'm aware of). After the class, in the locker room, several of the women who had attended were discussing the class and its intensity and how much the saddle hurt. And I piped up with "I don't think it hurt that much when I gave birth." I realize that made it sound as if bicycling were akin to labor and delivery of babies. That wasn't exactly what I meant. I meant that, post-childbirth, my hoo-ha wasn't nearly as sore as it felt while spinning away on the stationary bike. I should point out that I'm only referring to the birth of my second child. When Thing 1 was born, despite her minuscule, barely over 2 1/2 lb. size, there were stitches, surgery, catheters involved, and it didn't feel good...at all. But with Thing 2, despite her being a pound bigger, I felt fine as soon as I was allowed out of bed. Pregnancy wreaks havoc on my poor old body. Childbirth, well, that I can do alright. The L & D nurse told me, just after delivering thing 2, that I was made for birthing babies. Course, that can evoke images of a portly woman squatting in the fields to deliver her tenth child, then packing new baby in a sling and continuing her field work. I ain't that kinda woman.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Brolivia, of Pony Up aerobics fame, is leaving us. So long choo-choo arms, so long braided eighties sweatband, so long spandex shorts with pantyhose beneath. How will we go on? How will we ever master the rodeo clown move? Who will remind us to cross our weights. Who will check to make sure our shoes are double-knotted? Who will tell us exactly where we can and cannot put or water bottles? This must be what it's like to finish first grade and move on to second. Rest assured, we are getting a new instructor. But will she have the same capacity to make us fee like six-year olds? Brolivia has apparently had a "schedule change." And if we stalk her and meet her outside of the rec center, we can find out just where she's taking her reverse basic and Y-step. But it has to be outside of the facility. Cuz the rec center might be bugged.
Posted by emmay at 7:48 AM