I am so excited to welcome a new contributor here at Kiki and Company. Over the next few months, you will be seeing a whole new Kiki and Company (I’m sure you can tell that I am in the middle of a redesign right now). For years, I have received feedback that people love some of my more personal posts and want more of it, so in an effort to round out the subjects a bit, I am pulling in some amazing contributors to bring in posts you will love, love, love! Don’t you worry, we will still have a lot of printables, projects, and tutorials, but hope you will love some of the updates as well!
“Babe, I’m taking a spinning class tomorrow with Mindy.” I explained to my husband.
He looked at me quizzically. “Let me help you out with that. It’s SPIN class. Not a spinning class. You don’t want to embarrass yourself on the first day.”
It’s been a while. I don’t speak Gymish or Athletese.
The next morning I woke up at 4:45 to make it to my 6:00 class. In hind sight I ask myself…why?! I had been tossing through a weird Christmas eve-like sleep pattern. I kept waking up wondering if it was time to go to the gym, but hoping it wasn’t.
Once I saw a facebook post that said, “The joys of the gym in January.” Meaning, when will all these New Year resolutioners get off my elliptical? I just knew everyone would take one look at me and know I was one of those people who hadn’t been to the gym in ages. Or years. Or decades. Whatever.
I walked in and was surprised to smell it. It smelled exactly how I remember. Exactly! Smoothies, sweat, clean towels and shampoo steam.
Embarrassing private thought: “Where in the heck are the elevators? These stairs are making me winded!”
After wandering around, trying to look busy and getting lost twice because of wall to wall mirror confusion, I finally met my friend. She kindly gave me the lowdown on how to get set up for spin class. The perky instructor had kind eyes, THANK GOODNESS. She matter- of -factly looked me up and down and told me my goal was just to make it to the end of the class. Ouch. But, the truth.
The first work out in over a year is a brick in the throat and fire in the lungs. How can two previously obedient and well -functioning organs suddenly turn on me and refuse to give me air? Traitors! Gratefully, I have the wisdom of many a first work-out to know that the first day is death and it will get better.
Perky instructor was right. I prayed my way through those 55 minutes. I didn’t want to fall off that bike or worse…barf in a trash can.
I have a lot of wishy- washy wimp feelings about the gym. I doubt my determination to get up early. How I hate any hour before 8 am. I defeat myself before I even get started, sometimes.
I worry the health- nut skinny thighed girls will smell the cookie dough seeping from my pores.
I compare, I compare, I compare.
Here’s the deal though: Your body is the vehicle in which you experience all life. Think about it. Handshakes, floating in the pool under the sun, conversation, juicy apples, kisses, beholding natural wonders. Every single experience you have is facilitated by this mind blowing creation of your body. Be generous to it. Don’t curse it for the way it varies from someone else’s.
One day I was rubbing lotion on my legs after a shower, a habit I have done daily since childhood. As I did it, I realized I had been silently cursing the size and shape of my legs FOR THE LAST 30 YEARS! I struggled, but finally succeeded in rubbing that darn lotion on my legs and instead of comparing their appearance to Heidi Klum’s legs, I inwardly thanked them for carrying me through this life. I was grateful that they work, perfectly and painlessly. I tried to see the beauty in them.
I love to study old people. Really old people. People who poop in a pan in their beds and have had bed head for years. Do you think they’d turn down my strong body because last year’s jeans are too tight? Do you think they’d turn their noses up at riding a wave into shore, or a climb to the summit? Heck, do you think they’d refuse to cradle a sleeping baby with my arms because they have a little waggly pudge on them? Nope, they’d relish five more minutes with a body that could carry them anywhere.
I think it pains God when I spend so much time sad about my body. What a punk I am! Get over it sister! Use it. Use it up. It doesn’t look like it did when I was 17, but it is forgiving and eager to improve when I treat it right. It always amazes me how forgiving my poor body is to me when I finally show it the love it deserves.
Work it. Enjoy it. Love it.