I’ve been to the YMCA a couple of times now, and have been thoroughly impressed at my complete lack of falling down or inadvertently walking into the men’s locker room, or accidentally setting the treadmill to 45 miles an hour and not knowing how to shut it off again. It’s been pretty much pain free (so far) (Oh, besides the sore muscles from my Pilates class.) And your suggestions helped me very very much.
Like, when I got there, I knew that I should just press the ‘Quick Start’ button on the machines and I knew that I shouldn’t wear my slipper socks like I was planning on doing. I realized that I could pretty much avoid the locker room altogether and just come dressed already and take a shower when I got home. (duh) and I knew to look at my feet upon entering the locker room to use the potty. (This suggestion was a lifesaver.) Because, I love that the older women can feel so free with their bodies and stuff, but I think I’ll stick with the view of my feet, thankyouverymuch.
My yoga class was great and I fit right in and most of the other people there were older and I didn’t feel intimidated by young hot girls who could fold in half… And then in half again. (Like the ones in my college yoga class could.) It was relaxing and fun. Same with my pilates class. I’d never done pilates before and felt quite gangly and silly most the way through, (“do these rubber band thingys come in a “LANKY” and/or “BEAN POLE” size?) but over all it felt like a great workout and everyone is so friendly and helpful.
Me: “Where do you get those mat thingys?”
Nice Random Older Woman: “Right over here, hon. Oh the door is locked! I’ll just go search the entire building for someone who can open this door for you and then once it is opened I will lay out your mat for you right here next to mine and we’ll be BFFs forever and ever okay?”
Me: “Yes! Yes! A thousand times YES!!“
Ezra loves the childcare room because he gets to watch ‘A Bugs Life’ and ‘Toy Story’ in there which is pretty much the equivalent of baby crack to him. I went in there to get him from the nursery yesterday, and he was watching Toy Story with a group of kids. He was standing in the middle of the group- everyone else gathered around him in a semi-circle formation. Then he would point to the screen and ‘GASP!’- turning to the other kids every few seconds saying, “Baba Do dada!!” As if explaining what was happening to the other, less informed children sitting around him.
In the hour that I’d been gone, he had become their chief. Their fearless leader. Ready to lead these children through the plot lines of any Pixar movie that came their way…
What a brave little soldier.