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.