Body pump class today. Cool music, painful routine. You spend a WHOLE SONG just doing squats at various speeds (slow hurts the most) with weights over your shoulders. Ow. Then there is the biceps song, the triceps song (that is the one that killed the most), the pec song, the shoulder song, the hamstring song, the back song, and the ab song (I had to modify the movements big time for that one).
My body had the following things to say about it:
Quads: How could you DO this to us? Haven't we served you well?
Biceps: Why do I need to be strong anyway--do you want to look like a guy?
Triceps: You will pay for this...
Shoulders: Good luck brushing your hair tomorrow. HA ha HA!
Hamstrings: We are for sitting on. This is ridiculous.
Etc. etc.
And I should tell you that every single chica in that big, sweaty room could beat me to a bloody pulp if she wanted to. It was filled with she-beasts, I am telling you. Lotta muscles on those ladies.
I, on the other hand, can not even open my own bottle of gatorade. *Blush* It is true. I once melted a hole in the lid just because I couldn't get it off. This will be interesting...and good, I am sure. I don't want to be practically disabled by wimpiness anymore. | 