Listen, y’all. I started Burn Boot Camp today. I am gonna repeat that one more time, for the people in the back. I started Burn Boot Camp today. So if you don’t know what Burn Boot Camp is, just picture this. A group of tired mommies wake up super early in the morning (or get the kids to school, or get the kids to school and go to work, or get the kids to school, go to work, then get the kids home and make them dinner) then they come to this small strip mall right next to a great pizza joint. No. They don’t meet for pizza. They go next door where this crazy man named Billy is all mic’ed up and ready to roll at 5 am.
This crazy man (as far as I can tell he is their leader) this crazy man yells at them through the mic to do things, dirty, on-the-floor-type-things. No, not that kind of stuff, though to be fair a lot of the women there would do those kinds of things with Billy (but you didn’t hear that from me). Anyway, they do push-ups, and sit-ups, burpees, and some things on this bar-like thing. There are ropes and there are weird weights. They run and sprint and plank. They high-five each other and say things like, “Way to go!” and “You can do it!” Then afterwards they sometimes vomit. It is sort of surreal.
I am not 100% sure what I was doing there. You know when you make a snap decision and you feel like you have to sort of go with it or people will hate you. That is sort of the situation I got myself into when my friend Kassie texted me yesterday when I was teaching a room full of kindergartners about cloud formations. She was all, you should come to Burn tomorrow and I was all, anything is better than telling this little shit in front of me to stop touching people with his tongue one more time. So I said sure.
Now, should I have gone from my level of activity straight into Burn Boot Camp? Probably not. In fact, a better choice for me would probably have been the Senior Citizen Water Aerobics class down at the Y or maybe one of those Mommy-and-Me Yoga classes, where I use an American Girl doll as my baby. Not even the “kid” one. The damn Itty-Bitty-Baby one.
But I did it. I set my alarm for five, in the am, and I met Kassie there. Literally squealed into the lot at the exact time the class started. Now already I am feeling bad because poor Kassie is a motivator. She wants to see me succeed. She is the one who got me hooked on Weight Watchers. She is the one who sends me motivational texts and she is the one who works out like seven days a week. Seven. And I love her dearly, so I didn’t want to disappoint her. I wanted to go and do my best, but I knew as soon as I tripped getting up from a sit-up that I was probably gonna embarrass her. She just smiled and helped me up. Oh, Kassie!
About twenty minutes into the workout. Just after the second, first warm-up? I dunno, there seemed to be a lot of warm-ups and then a lot of “sets”, then there was this “Super set” which was the real shit-kicker, but I digress. About twenty minutes into the workout I wanted to die. I thought if I die then it would be easier for me to get out of going to Burn the next day. If I die they will all be like, oh wow. Poor Missy, at least she died doing something that was too strenuous for her heart. She will never get to experience all that Burn has to offer. And I would be cool with that.
But as it sits, I am alive. So I have to go back again tomorrow. Which sort of sucks and I was already wondering what would happen if I were to accidentally break my leg in a freak, driveway basketball accident. I think that might work too.
So I guess I will see y’all tomorrow.
And maybe the next day.
I mean, I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I hear working out is something you are supposed to stick with. We will see how that goes. But in the meantime, if you see me around town give me an old high-five and tell me congrats on not being dead. I would appreciate it.