YMCA

I’ve joined the YMCA.  It’s apparently the “cool” thing among my new circle of friends.  What can I say?  I’d rather be cool than lonely.

I have taken two classes so far.  The first was step aerobics.  It was fun but I mostly just flailed around like I was having a seizure while swatting a bee.  The nice girl next to me, who was covered in tattoos, said I would get better with time.  I had a difficult time looking her in the eyes while she talked.  She has half of her hair shaved off with spots tattooed on her head to look like a leopard.  Let’s hope she doesn’t try to convince me to follow her lead and get my own spots; I might be easily persuaded.

The second class was weight-lifting and strength exercises.  The participants were a 50/50 split of old people and chubby moms so I fit right in.  (Because I’m old.)  I’m incredibly sore today and it’s making me nervous to sit on the toilet in case I can’t get back up.  I could use the towel bar for leverage but I’m afraid of tearing it out of the wall.  

Guess it’s time for a catheter.  It’s tough being cool.