I take a pause on this cold Monday morning to talk to you about working out, praying I’m not alone in this ever exhausting and dreary process of keeping healthy.
One look at me and you just know working out isn’t a part of my daily routine. I don’t get excited over ellipticals or running or what have you. I can’t pretend to be even slightly fascinated by pintrest’s recipe for “lettuce wrapped carrots” and I think lunges are the anti-Christ. I mean let’s be honest people, isn’t it miracle enough to find the time to apply mascara on any given weekday, much less find the time to exercise? And let’s say I had the time. Well, on the rare occasion that I do have free time, I like to engage in highly intellectual activity, like browsing the web or watching the Real Housewives of Orange County.
As you can probably tell, the good Lord gave me ample amounts of motivation in the exercise department. It may come as a shock to you (it’s ok, I’m shocked too) that I recently purchased a monthly membership to the latest trending workout: Pure Barre.
I first found out about Pure Barre on the Internet (darn you, free time) and noticed that everyone talking about it is cute and popular. Well by golly, I want to be cute and popular, so I thought it was worth giving it a go.
It’s so nifty. You create an online account, sign up for classes via iPhone, show up for class, and boom! before you know it, you’ve just successfully worked out. So I began. Create account? Check. Sign up for first class? Check. Cancel first class? Check.
Wait. What? That’s not a part of the handy equation! Oops. Turns out I signed up and cancelled my “first class” 6 times. Stuff came up, okay? For example, the night of “first class” number 4, I wanted to eat cake. That would cancel out my workout. Solution? Don’t workout. The night of “first class” 2? I wanted to play backyard volleyball and certainly didn’t want to risk being sore! You can only imagine my despair at discovering that in order to successfully complete a class at Pure Barre, you have to actually show up for the classes you schedule. Ouch.
I’m proud to say that the 7th signup was the charm for me when it came to actually attending a class. Let me tell you – I was so pumped up for this. I watched every tutorial and read everything I could about this form of exercise before I went. It’s only 55 minutes, I thought it can’t be that bad. Boy, was I wrong. I know you’re just dying to know more.
Let me set the scene for you:
Think serene, dim studio with strategically placed floor to ceiling mirrors. Next, picture about 22 of the most gorgeous women you’ve ever seen, dressed from head to toe in their coordinating Lululemon ensembles softly chattering with one another as they wait for class to begin.
I immediately breeze past the gorgeous women, fumble around grabbing all the necessary equipment, and promptly make my way to the back corner, or as I like to call it “Hannah’s hideout.” Though I was hoping to go unnoticed, I think the baggy, old T-shirt and the slouchy sweats were a dead giveaway to the other 22 that I wasn’t necessarily a veteran. But before the shame could wash over my entire body, the music began playing and it was time for class to begin. In walks the instructor, Emily, who is cute as a button and has more pep than the captain of a cheer leading team.
Class went as follows (with the witty commentary taking place in my head in bold, of course):
[instructor]: alright everybody, welcome to class!! This is going to be so fun! Let’s start by lifting our legs and pulling our arms down, alternating sides.
Oh, wonderful. This requires coordination. Just what I was hoping for.
Next, we moved into a long series of several varying kinds of pushups, planks and other miserable stuff.
[instructor]: nice job everyone! That completes the warm up!
The warm up?! You’ve got to be kidding me. I literally thought you were going to tell me this class is over.
[instructor]: now, you just want to squeeze that bicep. Watch it pop up with every squeeze. Check your form in the mirror, that’s what it’s there for.
Oh! So that’s what that mirror is for! Biceps? Do I even have biceps? I don’t see anything in this darn mirror. Oh wait. I see something! (It’s a huge hole in the seat of my pants. not even kidding you)
Next, we move into thigh and seat exercises. Given my natural muscle tone and tremendous flexibility, my form only had to be corrected by the teacher during every.single.exercise.
[instructor]: ok, now make sure you’re stepping on the front of that left foot, don’t put all your weight in your heel.
Ha! Whoever is doing that just got CALLED OUT! I wonder who’s doing that. Oh wait, it’s me.
Finally, a series of ab exercises using nothing but your own body weight and a little red ball of doom.
[instructor]: go ahead and lift both of those legs as you crunch down.
Oh good. I can crunch, this isn’t so bad. Wait. Why can’t I lift my legs? Come on legs…liiiifffftttt. Nope. Nothing. Awesome.
And after just a few grueling, never ending moments later, we’re stretching on our mats. Well, the others were. I was attempting to squeeze in a brief cat nap.
[instructor]: and that concludes our class today! Thank you for coming! Have a great rest of your day and we’ll see you back tomorrow!
I don’t like you right now.
Physically shaking all over my body, I struggle to my feet and exit the studio. To make matters worse, on my way out, I must pass by racks of the most comfortable, adorable workout clothes I’ve ever seen.
No Hannah. No. Look away. You don’t need that stuff.
Needless to say, I did not have as great of a day as Emily wished me after 55 straight minutes of Pure Torture (or Pure Hell as I like to call it when I’m feeling extra colorful). And as for the following day, I felt like the Little Engine That Absolutely Could Not.
But guess where I’ve found myself practically every day for the last month? At Pure Barre. And I have several adorable outfits right off of their racks to prove it (peer pressure are propaganda are hideous things, friends).
So in sum, I’m confused because I absolutely hate every minute of this class. But I also absolutely love it. What I’ll really never grasp is how some of you actually for real love working out regularly. And by regularly, I’m not referring to my personal definition of regular (a.k.a once monthly). If you genuinely love to exercise, I’d love to know why, because I’m just sitting over here with some free time, blogging and
judgingenvying every last one of you.