Border Lands

I recently joined gym for several reasons, not least of which were the parts of my body I have taken to calling the Border Lands.  We all have them.  Those parts, here and there, the ones we don't like to talk about.  The ones that get places long before you do and seem to keep moving long after you thought you'd stopped.  My Border Lands have reached critical mass, as it were, and I am willing to suffer through any amount of torture just shy of a full jog in order to annex the whole damn territory.  


So when an otherwise perfectly trustworthy friend of mine told me about her gym I signed up.  It's been 6 weeks and things are going well.  I have bought new jeans in a number I can almost live with, I can touch my toes without groaning (too loudly) and I have what I would like to think of as the beginnings of an ab.  Just one.  Don't rush me.


I've just returned from Step class and the wonderful instructor gave us a each motivational mantra which is still ringing in my ears.  I've copied it down for you...


'Walk it out, now keep it wide and vee, two, three, four and change here to cross step  and trip over your feet and two, three four, mambo, cha-cha-cha, land on your ass, for three, two, one and kick for four, three, two now repeat and add an arm movement which will competely f*ck you up if you watch me do it in the mirror, good job!' 


She's a miracle worker.