Back to the Barre, Week 2

…two steps back…

My body isn’t happy with me. Oh, it doesn’t care that it’s 6:15 am and I’m headed to the gym; no, it’s more that I haven’t been to the gym (and more importantly, done the stretching or the ballet work) for three days so far.

Last week? 6 out of 7. This week? The 23rd, we went to San Diego for an early Christmas with my Dad. On the way home, we dropped by the Chocolate Bar in Carlsbad, and got hugs from Tameri Etherton and her fantastic hubby Dave (not to mention chocolate, and coffee drinks). Then, On Christmas Eve, there was a class from 5:30am to 6:30am. We’d gotten to the gym early. I wasn’t about to wait around for the room to be free. Plus the gym was closed on Christmas Day. Three days into the week and no ballet.

It took too long for my back to warm up this morning, another nasty side effect from not working out for three days. I spend thirty minutes on the treadmill instead of twenty, hoping to get everything even more warmed up than usual.

I finally go into the aerobics room and do my stretches. Ten minutes of stretching, then it’s time to get back on my feet. At my makeshift barre, I look in the mirror. Whether it’s the placement of my grey tee shirt or what, I catch my breath at my reflection, with only one thought on my mind.

WHY AM I SEEING MY MOTHER’S HIPS ON MY BODY?  The very hips I used to be so dismissive of, so smug – my hips would never look like that. Ever. (Now I just want to bonk my head on a cement wall and curse genetics. Unfortunately, no cement wall handy.) I look again, and there they are. My Mother’s hips, somehow attached to my body.

Oh, the horror! I squinch my eyes and go about my workout, avoiding looking at anything in the mirror other than my white-socked feet. The workout ends up being brutally short, as I’m sweaty and panting after just tendus. Which is not a good thing. Mentally, I’m wailing. I’ve only been away for three days. THREE. DAYS.

Shit. This getting into shape via ballet workout is not going to be a) easy or b) fun or c) pleasant. But damn it. I’m committed. I know I’m not going to get where I was (who does?); but I’d like to get closer to her, in the photo below. Except the hair. I’ll be happy to skip the perm.

Christine Ashworth, circa 2001. Photo by Jackson/Kristofferson & Associates, Los Angeles
Christine Ashworth, circa 1981. Photo by Jackson/Kristoffersen & Associates, Los Angeles

 So. What are you up to? Hope your Christmas was a merry one!


About Christine

Writer of paranormal, contemporary, and erotic romance. Find me on Amazon...
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5 Responses to Back to the Barre, Week 2

  1. OMG, look at you! That picture is adorable!! But wasn’t it all so much easier when we were young? Or maybe it wasn’t. Don’t you wish you could go back in time and slap yourself and say, “STOP OBSESSING ABOUT YOUR [fill in blank here…boobs/thighs/nose/whatever] YOU’LL NEVER LOOK THIS PERFECT AGAIN!

    • LOL Samanthe! We had different issues when we were young. I remember doing some stretches when I was young and flexible and not understanding what the fuss was about. I do them now and it’s totally painful. Cheers hon!

  2. robena grant says:

    I love, love, love the photo. You still do that look you know. : ) Wonderful post!

  3. What a great photo! And I’m so excited for you to get back to something you love like ballet. I NEVER looked like that. I was tall (6 feet now and since I was about 17) and klutzy. Ballet was definitely not in the cards for me. I do need to get in better shape though and am going to start swimming again. I love the water and it’s the best exercise for my ankle problem. I hope I can give it the determination you have. Wish me luck! Many blessings in the new year my friend!

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