So, that's over. Moving on. Tonight I went back to the Fitness Club for what I thought was going to be a casual 21 Day Fix with weights.
First of all, screw the 21 Day Fix with weights because shoulders. And too much pep. And it interrupted a good nap.
So I'm suffering through that, feeling all 40-esque, but it was only a half an hour, right, so who even cares about a little sweat? And what else was I going to do? I had broken my corkscrew earlier, and the only bottle of twist-top wine I had was just okay. Side note, tonight I realized maybe I have a drinking problem.
But this isn't about my drinking problem. It's about what happened after the 21 day devil shoulder wtf fix.
And that something that happened was Cize.
Cize is Shaun T of Insanity and T-25's latest workout phenom. It's entirely dance-based, so the idea is kind of that you don't realize you're exercising. The inherent problem in the whole operation is that I basically can't walk without tripping.
When I've got a pleasant buzz to hard drunk on, though, I still can't walk without tripping, but I don't care. I also believe, in these booze-clouded times, that I not only have the right to dance, but that not dancing would be to deprive the world of a greatness heretofore unseen.
However, tonight, at the Community Center, I wasn't drunk. I wasn't even a little bit drunk. So when Brad fired up the 'Cize, my instinct was to trip-walk right out of that damn gym. However, I had a little time to kill, and I had just seen Trainwreck and wanted to learn a dance like Amy Schumer uses to land the guy, so I told myself I'd stay for five minutes.
The problem, again, was that I really had never danced sober.
We got started at a nice slow pace, slow enough that I got excited. I can totally do this, I thought. And this is where being a dreamer gets you. Before five minutes was up, I had imagined myself right into the Jennifer Lawrence part of Silver Linings Playbook. I WAS Jennifer Lawrence in Silver Linings Playbook. And by that I mean the dance part, not the part where Bradley Cooper can't get over his ex, because let's be honest here, I already lived that whole part of the movie. Over it.
I was ready for the glory. I was ready to stick the landing and live happily ever after with the guy who saw me dance and was blown. away.
And also he was hot, and totally into me, but not too much, because then it's clingy and just no.
The motions and tempo continued to increase, but I was keeping up, and there were even times where I felt like I stuck the move hard. And then my fantasies commenced again, but more in depth. I decided that I would probably go clubbin', because that's a thing that I literally never do, and that my range and skill would be so obvious that the room would form a circle around me in no time. A circle that would remain unbroken...until the crowd parted and a man drew next to me. I had never seen him before, but that didn't stop us from moving in a complicated choreography that was completely in sync, not to mention stupid acrobatic, and culminated in me leaping into his arms and flying while he spun me like pizza dough, at which point the crowd would go wild and he and I would then go get some donuts or whatever.
For the first time, I understood that weird chick in high school who always danced alone in the middle of the floor, or tried in vain to get a conga line going while everybody looked at her like, you so crazy, goth girl.
This is also a perfect example of why all my grade cards mentioned that I daydreamed too much. But let's be honest, daydreams are so much cooler than not daydreams, amirite? C'mon now.
Science.
The point is, my five minutes turned into the whole 28 minutes, and I never felt like I was working out, so win. It's not even close to Insanity Max, so I'm sure the calorie burn is stupid low in comparison, but what isn't? Plus, mix that routine UP, right? Something something metabolism.
Anyway, it ended, and then I went and ate stromboli, and this is why I'll never be ripped.
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