jock itch

i'm such a wannabe athlete.  i was never really into playing sports as a kid, or a teenager, or, uh, ever, really.  it's 50% because i dislike competition, 30% because i hate getting sweaty, and 20% fear of injuring myself due to my breathtaking sense of klutziness.  if you know me in real life, and i have never tripped over dust molecules and sprained an ankle in your presence, well, keep waiting, because i can assure you: one day, it'll be your turn to call the hubs at work and let him know i'm in the er, awaiting x-rays and a prescription for codeine.

my resistance to athletics has translated into an utter disdain for working out, for all of the same reasons.  throw in my amazing ability to talk myself out of anything, and here i am, at age 36, with a sedentary lifestyle on my hands.  (i stretch the truth, a little: keeping an infant and a preschooler alive every day requires a lot of activity, but generally not of the heart-rate-increase variety.  unless i'm chasing the preschooler out of the path of an oncoming dump truck, or trying to remember where i left the infant.)

i've lost all of my baby-weight, and then some, through the magic of nursing and not having time to eat, two approaches i'm pretty sure jillian michaels isn't advocating.  but i know i'm not in "shape" per se, and though i weigh less, there are some areas that could use some, uh, help.

so, i'm starting an adult beginner ballet class tonight.  yes, seriously.  madeleine took ballet through the county this past winter, and loved it, but when it came time to register her for the next session, i spaced out and forgot; by the time i remembered, all the classes were full.  i emailed her teacher for recommendations for other ballet classes, and during the course of my research, i realized that: i really like ballet clothes.  and doing plies waaaay the hell back in middle school, the last time i actually took ballet, was kind of fun.  and at age 36, i am unlikely to come across many other opportunities in which i can get away with wearing a leotard in semi-public.

last week, madeleine came with me to pick out my clothes.  true, i could really just wear shorts and a t-shirt, but like i said, the CLOTHES.  i got a black spaghetti-strap leotard, black footless tights, and pink ballet slippers, which is exactly what i wear in the ballet class fantasy in my mind, the one where i execute perfect pas de deux and i don't fall down.  i also got a cute little wraparound skirt.  this item makes me a little nervous: i am so not looking to be that woman in the tutu, but i also feel like i need some butt coverage.  thoughts and opinions on this matter are welcome.

in addition to my new career as a prima ballerina, i've also decided to start stroller strides.  i did it once, last fall, a few weeks after hunter was born.  i ridiculed it before i went, but holy shit, that class kicked my ass.  and my ass could still stand to be kicked a time or two, so i'm heading back, but first (the CLOTHES!), i legitimately needed new running shoes, since everything i own (athletic shoes included) is strictly for fashion and not for aiding me in the pursuit of trying not to trip and fall flat on my face.  hunter came with me to dsw this morning, and with his help, i came home with a very adorable pair of grey with pink-and-green-accents rykas (endorsed by human skeleton kelly ripa!) and which had the added bonus of being 40% off.  is it wrong that i choose running shoes almost solely based on their cuteness factor?  because, i mean, really, does it make a difference?  (and here, i'm picturing the paramedics shaking their heads, telling each other that if only i'd sprung for the $90 nikes, i wouldn't be lying here on this stretcher.)     

cute, right?