I put my foot down today.

I walked out of a step aerobics class half-way through it.

My cue to leave wasn't when I tripped over the step while attempting the Straddle Down.

Or when I looked up from my feet to realize I was the only one in the room facing east.

My cue came when the instructor said "Ok, let's put it all together now!"

I sheepishly picked up my step, returned it to the closet, quietly exited the room.

I so did not want to be THAT woman, giving up before the class was over.

But I could not take another eight-count of it.

I had forgotten that my sister warned me about step aerobics.

Oh how I wish I would have remembered that this morning.

Apparently the aversion to step aerobics runs fairly deep, genetically.

This is the start of my third week of "EXERCISING". 

I'm now a card-carrying member of the YMCA.

I've fought it as long as I can,

despite the advice from a doctor, counselor, and my sister,

that exercise would change my life.

I'm keeping an open mind, trying a variety of classes and fitness machines.

I'm in the learning process. 

 This morning I learned that I do have standards.