When Granny Bashers Attack

I went to the acqua-cise class yesterday under many, many misconceptions.

Like, I'll probably be the youngest one there. Not. I would say at least five of the twenty five women there were close to my age.

Like, how hard can it be? Um. The class was 45 minutes long and I seriously considered leaving about half way through it. Only one woman, who had to be in her 90s, left before me. There was another 30 min. class directly after the one I was in and most of the women stayed for that.

Like, how much good can it do? Apparently, it does some good. When I woke up this morning, my torso was a little sore and achy, but nothing like it would have been following an exercise class on dry land. My feet don't hurt at all.

I especially enjoyed the boxing moves. I think I want to beat the stuffing out of an inanimate object. I think I need to do this.

I picked up a few tips about general logistics - for example, the downstairs locker room is a swamp. I'll use the upstairs one from now on and must somehow find a way to hide my swimsuit clad body from the unsuspecting public.

I loved that I didn't have to worry about what was shaved and what was not. I was also grateful that people couldn't see how clumsy and unco-ordinated I am.

Another thing I learned (but don't care about) is that my swimsuit is the wrong size. The unfilled cups tend to ride up and before I know it my would-be boobs are up around my neck. I should have ordered the "long" size.

For amusement, if I go tomorrow, I may try to wear the Speedo that tried to kill me. Stay tuned.

Oh, and props to Jammie for talking about her water walking class. That's what inspired me to give this a go. Good on ya, Jams.

News Flash! There Be Some Crazy-Ass People Out There

Looking around on the Google for colonoscopy prep, I have found some generally comforting information, but mostly I have found crazy people.

For instance: I found a web site where people actually take pictures of their poo! They are so grossed out about it that they want to share it with you. So they fish whatever it is out of the bowl, I swear, and they take pictures of it. And then they post them on the web. And then they brag about it.

When I worked for Fezziwig, one of the younger salesdudes from the UK would go on vacation to Thailand with his wife, where they would go for green tea enemas and colonic irrigation and gladly shared these facts with anyone who dared say, "Hullo, Clive, where did you go on holiday this year?"

I can think of a lot of pleasant reasons to go to Thailand. To sight-see. To meet the people. To enjoy the fabulous food. Having someone putting a nozzle where it does not belong does not qualify as a good reason to visit Thailand. Ever.

And from there, there are discussions about pee. I don't even want to talk about it, but just to add my voice to the general chorus, one thing guaranteed to ruin my day is realizing I am sitting where a hover-er has just been. These are women (as Queen Mediocretia described in a blog post) who hover over the toilet seat and fail to clean up after themselves.

Anyway, that was gross, this is gross and by the way, these pipes are clean.