Fofa

It all started last year with a conversation I had with my neighbor. Isa was only 7 or 8 months old at the time, and Gloria commented that I was thin for realtively recently having a baby. I agreed that I might be thinnish but that I was not in shape. I didn't know the spanish word for flabby or jiggly, so I was trying to describe this state to her when all of a sudden she got it and said, "Fofa!" Even though I'd never heard the word, I instantly knew what it meant just from the sound of it: fofa - "spongy, soft, and of little conststency." That was me. That night I declared to Matt that I was fofa and that I would like to join a gym as soon as possible.

Well, as soon as possible turned out to be three weeks ago, so I've been trying out the various classes they offer until they put up the giant tent over the pool for winter. Tonight I went to my first class of Body Step (in spanish it's pronounced Bo-dee eh-Step). I've been going to a strength training class, but tonight I decided to change it up a bit with something more aerobically challenging.

Of course all of the best spots (i.e. in the back and far from the doorway) were taken and I was left with one sort of in the back but directly opposite the instructor. About 35 seconds into the first song my body quickly reminded me that I am not a coordinated person. About 45 seconds into the first song I realized that my sports bra was failing. So less than a minute into the class, I'm directly across from this peppy instructor who probably has his own video series and overwhelmed with the realization that: 1. I'm going to have to try SO HARD over the next 54 minutes not to trip, and 2. my boobs are going to be bouncing all over the place practically the whole time. Oh God help me.

I sort of faked it through the first three songs with my arms flexed and near my chest. This was good because they covered up all the extraneous bouncing and because I really didn't need any other distractions from trying not to trip.

I was more or less keeping up. By the time I learned a step the instructor would switch to the other leg or something new altogether. This was fine because after a few classes muscle memory will kick in, and I won't have such a hard time with the whole coordination thing. Maybe in a few months I might even be able to try arms.

But on the next song out came our instructor's jazz hands. Yes, not only is he in incredible shape, coordinated enough to do both foot and arm motions, but he was smiling and had jazz hands. I think it was during this song that he noticed that I was not doing the arm motions. He looked at me and said, "Amino! Animo!" which basically means, "Come on, you can do it!" Maybe I would have tried the arm stuff had it not been for the failed sports bra, but even if I hadn't been bouncing all over the place, there was no way that I was going to go for jazz hands. I was in an aerobics class, not a musical!

Somehow I survived. I was drenched in sweat by the end of class, so I must have accomplished something aerobic. I think probably tomorrow I'll go back to the strength training class. Very simple motions and it's either your legs or your arms - never both. Sounds good to me until the pool opens back up.