"This sounds fun, interested?" That's what I sent to Carly a week or so ago after reading about a local Barre class on Groupon. Barre, as in what ballerinas stand on their tip toes next to while squatting slowly, listening to nice music and raising their arms above their heads with all the grace of a beautiful swan. So we signed up. $39.00 for 5 hour long classes. A steal.
Classes filled up fast, so in the mean time we joined a gym and have been feeling especially fit. Our first class was today at 7:30, so I had 20 minutes at home to briefly stuff my face with pita bread, hummus, cheese, tortilla chips, and a couple of chocolate covered blueberries. Let's just say my yoga clothes weren't looking so sharp by the time we ran out the door.
We arrived at the class and our teacher Denise told us to pick out 2lb, 3lb, or 4lb weights. As per usual, I scoffed at the 2-3 and went with 4, thinking it seemed low. Any illusion of an enjoyable new work out was shattered when we heard Denise say "boot camp." When Charlotte Church came on the iPod, she laughed and asked if we should work out to that. Yes, yes I think we should. I like The Prayer..I like that music during a stress relieving Pilates work out.
Apparently I didn't sign up for the right class, so our punishment was to not get a spot along the side walls, but rather along the back, in the center of the room. With the mirrors glaring back at us, we were on center stage. First up in Boot Camp was cardio. Since I don't do work-out videos, this was not a good start to the class. Since I don't dance without the help of a choreographer, that wasn't good either. Denise didn't seem to recall that Groupon offered this deal to all of Tampa (including those who haven't done this before), so there was no instruction whatsoever. This resulted in me waving my arms in the air with the occasional off-beat stomp and butt shaking. Thanks to the mirrors, I could see Carly too. At one point I was laughing so hard at myself that I could hardly keep up the charade. I hope Denise didn't see and think I wasn't taking it seriously. The first time I looked at the clock out of misery was less than 7 minutes into the class.
The 4 lb. weights didn't last long. Oh, I was too prideful to put them down, but after a good 10 minutes on each arm, things didn't feel nice. The actual "barre" part of the class was minimal. We did a lot of standing on one foot to the point that it was my knee that was in pain, not my muscles. Carly was sweating so bad next to me that she figured she must be way out of shape...I took it to mean I was just doing everything completely wrong.
I started cursing ballerinas about 40 minutes into the class. All the little skinny chicks around the class looked perfect standing up on their tippie toes. Actually, even the far from skinny chicks looked perfect standing on their tippie toes. So I'm pretty sure it was just us struggling. Carly says she saw some cheaters, but I'm not convinced. As my sincere irritation continued to grow, I didn't have warm thoughts for Denise either. I also had the growing suspicion that we weren't going to get to finish with stretching, sooo that ruined the light at the end of my tunnel.
Oh, I almost forgot, Denise lies. She starts the countdown at 8 after you've been going for a while. It goes something like this, "All right let's finish up-- 8.....7.......6.....keep it strong!....5......keep that stomach in.....4....relax those shoulders.....3.......almost there keep holding.....2.......1...let's hold it extra long.....OKAY, only 15 more seconds!" No joke. I don't operate that way. If I'm giving my all for 8 seconds, don't make me do it again. If you tell me I'm done and then make me do it again, I'm not going to believe you. Clearly she hasn't heard the story of the boy who cried wolf.
We ended the class with "burpies," which apparently is the ballerina name for an up-down. I was pouting at this point, so mine were crappy. I've never done such a lame push-up. Those wimpy knee push-ups? I don't even know how they actually work. When those were done, the stretching began. At this point, my left knee was hurting so bad that I was doing double the "work" on my right leg. Since the stretching hurt too, it didn't really matter anymore.
Finally. It was over. I wanted to book it out, but somehow we were the last two in the classroom so I was forced to chit chat with Denise. As I stood there with my hands on my hip and my legs shaking in places I didn't know could shake, she asked me how I liked the class. I wasn't about to lie and say I liked it, but I couldn't tell the truth either. With what I imagine was a less than convincing smile-chuckle, I said it hadn't been exactly what I expected. Since I thought perhaps she had noticed my one-leg work out at the end, I mentioned that my knee had started hurting pretty bad. Her response? "Yea...you know how I kept telling you to move your foot closer to the bar? That's why."
Thus ended my one and only experience with Barre Boot Camp.
Lesson Learned: Don't think that a deal on Group-On will teach you how to be a beautiful ballerina. You can always be beautiful, but most of us will never be ballerinas.
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