And that's when I lost consciousness . . .

I decided to attend a Shimmy Fit class at the Belly Dancing studio last night.  It is pay-as-you-go (no contracts or monthly fees) and the studio is close to my house - plus, for all of the annoying exercise programs I have attended (and abandoned) over the years, belly dancing is quite fun and it is certainly a conversation starter.  When folk ask where you just came from and you say "ach, just my belly dancing class" folk inevitably say "ohh, fun!" and then all of a sudden you are really cool and mysterious and maybe even a bit, dare I say, sexy.  At least one night a week, anyway.  So I showed up at the class early with the goal of purchasing some of the dancing shoes - remembering that in my other class the meat was painfully removed from the balls of my feet due to all the turning and tip toe work.  Shoes on, bells tied around my waist, I waited for class to start.  Like before, there were all shapes and sizes, all ages of women.  I was feeling pretty proud of myself for actually following through with going to the first class.  The first time is always the hardest for me.  Once I get into a groove, I am usually good to go for a while, but that first class is a struggle.  The instructor moved to the front of the class, acknowledged that there were a few new faces in the crowd (glad I wasn't the only one) and then very directly said "It's important, in my class, to go at your own pace."  Ok, got it.  Go at my own pace.  Then the music started - Tina Turner's Proud Mary.  We started shimmying - rolling - moving, what have you - the pace was good - I was all like "I got this" - "no problem" - then the fast part of Proud Mary started - and that's when I lost consciousness . . . .   Turns out "my pace" is being scraped off the floor.  That's Ok though.  Next week will be easier (if I can move by then) and then even easier after that. 

Pray for me . . . .