Okay, I’m usually a get along with everyone sort of woman. I don’t care if your beliefs match mine; if we all thought the same thing, the world would be a deadly dull place. And while I like healthy competition, not everything in life is a competition. But I HAVE to get this incident off my chest.

I went to the gym the other day for my usual Wednesday step aerobics/abs class, looking forward to the advanced class, which is only once a week. The added bonus was that my favorite instructor, whose schedule doesn’t often match mine, was teaching. I love this class because I love a good challenge and the fact it really helps me unwind.

When I saw this very petite woman behind me, I didn’t give her much thought–until said twig gave me a pointed look. Then I overheard her tell her friend that no one who wore a size of clothing in double digits could possibly finish this class. I gotta say, this stupid assumption rubbed me the wrong way in a big way. So, like a lot of Weight Watchers who have fallen off the wagon and writers who spend their days with their ever-widening butt parked in front of a computer, I carry a little extra weight. She had no idea what I was capable of. I have years of jazz and modern dance under my belt–and I have the aching knees to prove it. I’ve been a faithful stepper for the last 2 1/2 years. And by golly, I was going to show her.

The class started, and the music was very quick. The advanced class jumps right into the thick of things. It didn’t take me long to smile. Into about the second combo, I could tell she was struggling and looking at me like she couldn’t understand why I wasn’t. Twig may have been thin and in good shape, but she didn’t know the commands and had a hard time keeping up with the complicated choreography–and she was every bit as sweaty as I was. I focused to make my way through the mambo alternate, stomp to a reverse hop, cross cha cha to a reverse turn, tick tock over, followed by alternating knees, then a hop turn hesitate with a hustle. The pace picked up from there. Twig got lost along about the reverse turn. I even stayed for the 15 minute ab sequence and the 125 glut lifts–though, not without pain. Let’s be real here. Twig struggled as well, so again, we were even.

I’m not wanting to make myself feel better by making her feel small. I know exactly who I am and what I’m capable of. Rather, I’d hoped that she saw that, to use an old cliche, judging a book by its cover did not always present the most accurate picture.

Whew, I feel better now, so I will step off my soapbox. In the next few days, I’ll send forth my writing processing blog and tell you what happened when I had to explain to my mother recently exactly how sexy my books are getting…

For all my fellow Americans, happy Independence Day!
Shelley