Only god-knows-what I was discussing with my husband when it led to the subject of exercise. He mentioned that now that the kids were back in school all day, I should start taking ballet again. I hadn’t taken it since March when I pulled my hip out of joint.
I replied sure, I’d love to start taking ballet again, it’s the only form of exercise that I actually enjoy. Because, I hate exercising. Like…hate it. It’s so boring. I mean, I’ll do it. Reluctantly. In fact, I used to reluctantly exercise obsessively. But, that hasn’t fit into my sedentary lifestyle lately. I mean, when you are living the life of an aspiring author, it’s hard to write and work out at the same time. Who’s with me?
I’ve never been this Oompa Loompa mushy before in my entire life. I’m like the Stay-Puff Marshmallow with a nice, bronze tan. Part of my sedentary lifestyle has included plopping down on a lounge chair and basking in the warm summer sun. I mean, I’m trying to appreciate the summer, it is far too fleeting to not.
I am, however, considering incorporating exercise into my very busy daily schedule. I think I should before I’m dragging my butt-cheeks along the ground, along with certain other parts of my body that gravity seems to be tugging on. It’s either exercise or surgery and I’m not a big fan of being cut open so my options are limited.
Somehow, I totally lost track of where I was going with this. Hmmm…
Oh yeah. OK…
So, there were were, my husband and I discussing exercise. He was letting me know, in not so uncertain terms, that I should be working out in some form or another.
I was letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that I may or may not be considering this as an option.
He was letting me know, in no uncertain terms, that he highly recommends looking into heading back to ballet. Except when I told him that ballet class was around $18 per class. Then he wasn’t so highly recommending ballet anymore. Because my books aren’t exactly reaping financial riches.
I told him that I wished there was a ballet class that was strictly the barre part. Not bar…barre. You know, that wooden rod that lines a large room that has a huge, non-flattering mirror in the front of the area? Yeah…barre. I love ballet barre class. The center floor part…I’m on the fence about these days. I feel like a baby elephant and it’s not the most pleasant of feelings, I’ll tell ya.
He goes into deep thought mode, which only lasted less than 15 seconds. He gets this a-ha, light-bulb look on his face. He responds to the effect of…Well, we COULD put a pole in our bedroom. And then he wriggles his eyebrows.
I’m like…Say what? I may have had a deer in the headlights look plastered on my face but I don’t know for certain, I wasn’t anywhere near a mirror to check.
He gives me this look. You know, the look of a husband that thinks he has this great idea. The look of a husband that thinks he’s a genius. Tell me I’m not the only one whose husband is like that.
He’s like…Yeah, a pole.
I’m like…For what? Dude, there is quite a difference between a pole and a ballet barre. Just like there is a big difference between ballet and, well…pole dancing.
He shrugs…Not much difference. One is vertical and one is horizontal.
I’m like…I can’t believe we are actually having this as a discussion. Are you like totally and completely serious or have you totally and completely lost your mind?
He’s like…you’re totally going to blog about this aren’t you?
I’m like…well, considering I haven’t really been blogging much lately, I might consider it.
He’s like…You aren’t blogging? What have you been doing when you’re sitting in front of your computer?
I’m like…Writing, duh.
He’s like…But, not in your blog?
I’m like…Well, aside from a short story here and there, nope, not much.
He’s like…Well, you should. Blog again.
I’m like…Maybe I will. Maybe. I. Will.
He’s like…Yeah, you’re totally going to blog about this.
I’m like…Well, hopefully my story will resonate with some other woman whose husband does not seem to know the difference between a pole dancer and a ballet dancer and that woman won’t feel so alone in the world knowing there is someone else out there with THAT husband.
He’s like…I know the difference, I was trying to be helpful.
I’m like…Oh, you were helpful alright. Helpful indeed.
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