Abs 0, Shoes 1

Posted: March 4, 2012 by sneakerporndiaries in Uncategorized

Today was chalked full of several…um…incidents. The first involved a new sports bra and a fitted tank. My cousin Tina told me to try running with a high-impact sports bra to keep the girls in line when doing my C25K stuff, so I knew it would be helpful in spin class because the girls out of line in there, too. Yesterday I picked up a couple of those, another pair of gym pants, a fitted tank and another fitted shirt with a shelf bra (I have two of these).

What I didn’t realize (nor did it ever cross my mind) was high impact sports bras run small. So the size I normally wear – I’d have to get the next size up. This I did not do, I grabbed the size I normally wear. So this morning when I took it out of the bag I had a fleeting thought it looked a tad…little. I, however, am very determined.

As soon as I attempted to pull the fabric down I knew I was in trouble. I got stuck. Unless   you’re double-jointed, there is really no effective way to get your hands behind you and up to your shoulder blades without bending in some incredibly strange positions…just to get fingertips in the general vicinity. So I wigged myself out and decided it needed to be stretched.

There I am pulling this way, and that. I try extending one arm out with a firm grip on one side of the bra and pulled on it with the other. Then I switched. I gave thought for just a second to wrapping it around the closet door handle, then thought better of it. Knowing my luck, I would have smacked myself right in between the eyes. My last attempt

Nobody is this happy after getting into one of these things!

involved placing my hands inside, pulling, putting my hands on my thighs and trying to use my arms and legs to stretch the fabric.

Can you even imagine?

After all this, I almost got myself stuck again. It took a full five minutes to untangle the fabric and get myself…situated. Then I put on a fitted tank, which did fit. I looked freaking great…until I had to breathe. Holy crap. Who makes this stuff??? So, back to the default of a fitted shirt with a shelf bra. It’s the same size as the tank, same manufacturer. I don’t get why they fit differently, but I’m sure in two weeks it won’t be an issue.

THEN…ab class!

I must be out of my flipping mind. I decided to take the class because A: the instructor who teaches spin teaches the ab class; and B: I have no abdominal muscles at all. Really. Wednesday night Mark had to stand on my toes, and I still had to grab my legs to sit-up. But, I thought since I’ve accomplished so much, why not give it a go?

Only some of the stuff I could do. Blair said we were working obliques. I’m all, “I have obliques? Where??” Later she had us staring at our toes and doing sit-ups, hugging a ball and doing sit-ups, left-elbow-to-right-knee-and-switch sit ups, blah blah blah.

This was me.

I piped up with, “Do you have an alternative for those who can’t get off the floor?” One gal over in a corner started laughing. I was serious! OMG – who makes this stuff up??

 

 

Best part was was planking, which looks like this gal here in this photo.

But we had mats, not bare floor. Blair said it would be a lot easier to do the planks if we kept our shoes off the mat. Sole of the shoes gripping the floor, my smart self thought. I had my arms on the mat, I’m doing my best to stay put, my arms are shaking. Then…my arms slowly slip forward on the mat. I keep trying to get back into position, but I’m sweating so much by this point I’m doomed.

I kept going down….zip!

I clued into the problem and put a towel under my arms. But not before Blair called out the next move, which looks like this:

 

 

 

 

 

There I am, sliding along the mat again, trying to kick out my leg. I re-position myself and try kicking the other leg. I’m doing nothing but managing to slide myself all over the floor and off the mat. Best part is yet to come.

Because I was sliding, shifting, and slipping all over the place my shoe came off.

Tid bit for the weekend: I asked Mark to take measurements on Saturday. He said, “We haven’t measured the chest yet, right?” I said, “No.” As he is taking the measurement, my aunt walks across the garage with her boobs pushed out and says, “You can measure mine.”

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