Mom. Dad. Don’t be alarmed. It’s not what you think. I’m not pregnant. I exercised!
As I’ve grown up, I’ve been sometimes referred to as a “mom” by my friends because of the clothes I wear, things I say or the way I act.
But today folks, today I felt like a true mom. Why? Because I went to a Barre class. What is Barre you might ask? Not ballet. There is a ballet bar that is used but unfortunately we don’t get to hold onto it for much time. It’s a lot of core work - which is great because true fans know I can barely do a push-up - and discovering muscles you didn’t know you had. Or needed. Or wanted.
Now it’s not the fact that I went to the class, it’s the fact that my friend and I were easily the youngest ones there.
We got to Barre late and when we walked in, they were doing an exercise facing the door. I was greeted with about 15 glares from sweaty middle-aged women in Lululemon workout gear - oddly enough, I felt welcomed and like I was at home.
I’m all for women trying to stay active and find their “crystals” as our instructor said today, but not when I’m the youngest one there and being out-barred by a 50-year-old.
I was quite the athlete back in the day and by back in the day I mean about six months ago. My favorite part of preseason was the soreness I felt the day after a tough workout. Let me tell you, I will be feeling much more than a soreness tomorrow. I moved muscles today that I didn’t know could be moved.
We were doing this exercise where you lay on your side with your elbow propping yourself up, your knees are bent and in the air, your feet soles are touching, and you move your upper leg up and down to look like butterfly wings almost. That was poorly explained but we’re rolling with the punches.
Our instructor was making her rounds to see if everyone was doing it right. I see her coming in the mirror and all of a sudden a stampede of a charley horse comes on. She laughs and tries to be comforting. I felt defeated. Of course none of the moms had charley horses, that would just be absurd.
I will be going back this week and I will strive to be better than the Baby Boomers. I just have to. If not for me, for my fellow Gen Z folk who need to prove our superiority and our ability to move just as much if not better than them.
When I was a master at the kind of bar that matters.