I'm willing to admit that, perhaps, I've bitten off more than I can chew this week.
There was spinning on Monday. Then kickboxing and strength training on Tuesday. Hip-hop on Wednesday. Salsa on Thursday. And my knees are really pissed at me right now.
Maybe I need to work out a schedule that doesn't include four days in a row of sweat- and soreness-inducing, calorie-burning workouts.
Or maybe the old body will eventually get used to it.
At any rate, tonight someone I've never talked to before came up to me and told me I dance really well. I almost cried! She's this tiny woman with a beautiful accent who dances like she owns the joint, and she thinks I can dance! Every dance tonight was my happy one.
Everything was perfect and happy until John decided it was time to edit my wardrobe. Okay, so the t-shirt I was wearing is threadbare and holey. It's old, white, cotton ... it's kind of a security blanket. "It does nothing for you," he said, delivering fashion advice in a way only a gay man can. (Honestly, I think if he didn't say stuff like that to me, he'd have to turn in his membership card.) But too bad, John - I love my tired old shirt, and I don't care how much you sweat on it, I'm gonna wear it until it disintegrates in the wash!
Anyhoo, tonight's schedule is going to include a loooooong, hhhhhot bath. I deserve a happy soak. And maybe even a glass of wine.
Yeah, that sounds just about perfect.