Thursday, January 31, 2013

I Love Lycra (so much!)
This was a day. I woke up and did a bioenergy treatment for my friend's knee. I canceled my client who lives out in Capannori because I needed to get my hair done for the photo shoot today at the fancy gym. F took photos of me in all four of my workout outfits that were not in the wash and we picked one. Then I tried to stretch out and realize that my right butt cheek and the back of my right thigh were absolutely torn up from the bare core class I took with Elisa under advisement of my new boss. If only I had known that under that darling smile of hers beat the cruel, dark heart of a dominatrix. I ate some frantoiana soup and my personal training client canceled. I stretched some more. The crunchy noise that was happening in my right flank was slowly becoming more of a crackle than a pop. It was a huge process to get all fixed up (again) for these fancy gym people and I asked myself for the millionth time what would happen when I don't have six hours to get ready to go over there. Would they mock my frizzy post exercise hair and my spotty face sans makeup? F drove me over.


 Here I am being freaked out and trying on outfits:





I hung up my coat in the scary women's locker room and schlepped T's vintage Dolce bag stuffed with other outfit choices and hair products up to the main floor. My boss looked perplexed when I asked if I had time to warm up, but he showed me where to go. I saw an old man using a long broom stick like baton thing to stretch his back and asked where I could get one. He said there was only one, but he let me have it when he was done. I did some show-off-y things that I can do with a baton and a leg to pass the time because a bunch of my new colleagues were checking me out on the sly. At the moment when the photographer arrived, I had my leg up on a window ledge to stretch. I had nowhere to put my sweatshirt so I hung it on my leg and did an about face so I could stretch my hands down towards my standing leg. When I raised myself back up and retrieved my sweatshirt from my leg I saw the gym owner, my boss, and the photographer staring at me. I got startled and quickly went up to them to shake hands and get the show on the road. They decided to put two steps on top of each other in the spin room where a few folks were peddling while watching a weird 80s film that looked like Perfect on a projection screen. I guess that is what they mean by Cardio Cinema. Anyway, it was intimidating that the owner stayed there to hold the lights for the photographer. The first shots to test the light were not so flattering so I tried to stand up straighter and readjust. Finally, I asked if I could hold some of the positions from my class, which would be why I warmed up, and those seemed to go better. I tried to remember all the wacky advice Tyra Banks has ever given on all 19 seasons of America's Next Top Model. I won't say that it is harder than it looks because that always makes me throw up in my mouth a little when models say that. I'll just say smiling naturally is not something I do when a bunch of guys are frowning at me and looking at me skeptically.


The photographer showed me what he got at the end. He was a sweetheart. There were of course some horrendous shots where my upper arm looked like a ham hock or my eyes were closed, but the ones in the dance poses had a great shadow on the white wall behind me that look like there are two dancers and I hope they pick one of those. Then my boss guy Giacomo said that on Friday I will do a lesson for Elisa and some other teachers and then if the Master goes well, he will give me five lessons a week to start. I laid in bed with my eyes wide open and my heart beating for an hour and a half, but it was worth it.

Here are some bonus shots of my gorgeous daughter buying things that contain little or no Lycra as she prefers natural fibers, god bless her tiny little thighs.



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