Tuesday, February 28, 2012

I swear, I've been taking my meds.

I’m starting to realize that though I preach the virtues of being flexible and rolling with the punches, I occasionally find that I have trouble with that very thing.

Let’s take Zumba, for instance.

I have some pretty rigid beliefs as to the proper etiquette for that class and the people who attend.

Basically, it’s all about respecting the space of others.  And I have a spot in my Monday class that I prefer to be in.  I recognize that we don’t have assigned dance space, but I attend this class more often than not, so if you’re a Jill-come-lately, don’t get up in my space and expect me to be thrilled with your presence.

We also have a woman who is an instructor in the class prior to ours who sometimes stays over into our class and she bugs me.  Because she stands right up front crowding those of us who are regulars, she is distracting, and keeps chatting with her students who stayed on for a second class.  Come on Missy (and yes, that’s her name)!  Move to the back, shut your mouth and realize that it’s not all about you.  Also, that tattoo is trampy looking.

If you come in late, don’t expect to take your place right up front and center.  The class starts at 7:30 every Monday, so it’s not exactly a surprise that if you come in at 7:45, we’re going to be well into our routines.  So come in, get out of the way and catch up.

Get water whenever you want, but don’t block the view of the instructor.  If you are going to leave class early, don’t take up a spot in the front, and don’t take 5 minutes to gather all your crap you placed at the front of the room, thereby being rude, disruptive  and once again blocking our view of the instructor.

This isn’t an audition for FAME.  While we’re all going to modify our moves to suit our individual needs and limitations, your over the top jazz hands and exaggerated facial expressions aren’t going to get you noticed by one of the myriad talent scouts who have nothing better to do than cruise the local Ys for potential Gwen Verdons. 

Dress appropriately.  We don’t need to see your good china. Wear clothes that will cover all the essential bits and pieces.  And by the way, pajama jeans are not workout attire.  I’m not trying to stifle your ability to express your unique personality, I just hate pajama jeans, and I don’t want to see your ass cheeks.  I don’t even know you.  Please don’t get me started on the woman who dresses like she left her rehearsal of a community theatre production of Godspell to go to her job as a street mime.  

I think we can all agree that this is annoying.

Don’t assume.  Skinny girls screw up moves and fat girls can dance.  We’re all there to get our groove on – just relax, dance and smile.  It’ll be fine.


Sunday, February 26, 2012

Puppy Love

Another weekend almost over.  Sigh.  Good news, though - I slept plenty, had lots of fun and got to go to a great party.

At the party, one of the guests brought his four year old kid, and she was not especially well-behaved, nor was Dad paying much attention.  She ended up with her grubby hands all over the cheese that we'd laid out for the burgers.  Yeah, I don't love kids.  We've established that, yes?

Now, on the other hand, my hostess' newest edition, an eight week old French Bulldog puppy named Beau, was sweet as pie.

Here he and I are, sharing a moment...

He looks like The Brain from Pinky and The Brain.  Love him.

And tomorrow, it's once more into the fray.  I think it'll be a good week.  My boss won't be there, which is a bummer, but we'll be making room for a new colleague - one that has my dubious seal of approval.  He seems like a good guy - he fosters dogs from the Music City Pug Rescue.  He has one now named Mimi.  He bought her a hat off Etsy.com.  I think we have a winner.

Life is pretty good.  I have a few little things nagging at me - but the good news is that life is 20% what happens to you and 80% the way you deal with it.

And that, my friends, is all that I can say for now.

Keep your puppies close.


Friday, February 24, 2012

No, no...here's why you're a bad person...

We received an e mail this afternoon from our office manager:


If you are one of the many who use the workout room please remember that there is another floor beneath us who have employees trying to work. The Property Manager reached out to me today saying she has had numerous complaints about the noise coming from our floor (mostly around lunch time) that sounds like someone is dropping something really heavy on the floor. This is a disturbance to those trying to work on the 3rd floor.

In the future please be considerate of the company below us and put your weights down easier so the sound doesn’t carry to the below us.

The weights should never be dropped/thrown to the floor for any reason. If you cannot put them down softly you may want to think about lifting lighter weights.

Thank you

Sally Friendly* | Office Manager

* Name changed to protect the innocent.

I replied to my nearest and dearest with the following: 

Is anyone else surprised that people from the 3rd floor could positively identify what noises coming from a workout room sounded like?

Have you seen these people?  They get on the elevator at the second floor with a cup of coffee and a muffin the size of a newborn baby, sweating and out of breath and they heave themselves off the elevator onto the 3rd floor.  Sure, they’re wearing sweatpants, but only for the elastic waist and not for their lunchtime jog.

I recognize that I didn’t make the cover of SI’s Swimsuit issue again this year, but compared to these mouth breathers, I’m Jane Fonda circa 1982.

The only thing heavy they’ve ever dropped on the floor is their lunch box.

I’m just saying.

And that's why I'm a bad person.  Although, I've gotten a few "amen"s in reply.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Sign of the times

Ok, so I’m about to head to Weight Watchers, where I believe that everything that went up last week will go down this week.  That’s the hope.

They (the Weight Watchers peeps) recommend a Tool for Living™ called “Storyboarding” where you build out the comic strip that is your success story.  I may need to do that.

I’ve said this before, but I believe it now as much as ever.  Weight Watchers’ biggest failing, if you can call it that, is their inability to successfully address the emotional baggage causing people to eat beyond a point of satiety.  I don’t have an answer to this conundrum.  

I just keep showing up.  It seems to kind of work.

Meanwhile, it’s been a slow week, in that it’s been kind of busy with contract, paperwork, getting my expenses squared away… all good and necessary things.

But it makes time drag.

Big party at Natae’s this weekend.  Need to remember that storyboard when I want to reach for a slice or spoonful of something yummy.

Slivers turn into slices, slices into slabs and slabs make you a slob.

See, that’s the WW core competency – twee sayings that make you feel bad.

And make you want to eat.

And with that, I think I’ll head out and find out what the scale tells me.

The scale tells you how you did this week – the meeting will tell you how you’ll do next week.  Stay for the meeting, you’ll be glad you did.

That’s the sign in the bathroom at my meeting center.

Sigh.  I may be in a rut.  Or OCD.

Or both!