At 5:30 am on Tuesday and Thursday and 7:00 am on Saturdays, I drag my Mommy ass out of bed and head to a studio exercise called Lagree. The best way to explain it - 45 minutes of voluntary masochistic torture that has you sweating so much, you literally rain perspiration - and honestly, it isn't perspiration, it's like pig level, took too much Molly dance in the desert naked type sweat. The thing it...everyone who does it gets addicted - and we all keep going back for more...week after week, month after month, year after year.
TheFighter introduced me to it a few years ago (I love and hate her for that), and I turned OverAchiever onto it a couple years ago. (Side note, if you don't know those references, check out the "PowerChicks" post from 4/24/18). Anyway, it's gnarly and I hate my life the entire 45 minutes because no matter how long you have done it, it absolutely never gets easier. As a slightly competitive control freak, that pisses me off. But then, when I walk out the door, with my hair soaking wet, my legs giving out on me and my arms feeling like I should amputate them for relief, I feel like a fucking bad ass. And for a Mom of 40 - we need that every once in a while.
What's even more cool, is at the location and class times I go, everyone in there is a working Mom (with human and/or fur babies) and NONE of us - with the exception of a few (OverAchiever being one of them) is a size 0. We challenge each other, push each other and then all collapse together at the end - feeling STUPID STRONG and realizing that we just KILLED THAT SHIT.
Recently, however, the owners of our studio opened a new location in a super hipster part of Orange County. Everyone who goes to that location is like 25 with long blonde extensions which for some reason they don't need to put into a pony-tail, has 2% body fat, does classes at like 10:00 am with their bestie and Farm to Table Kombucha and they must feel like they will die if they don't post on Instagram both walking into and out of a class. For a while, it was fucking annoying. In fact, even though that location has these incredible new machines that I wanted to try, I have never gone over there out of fear that my lack of filter would find me screaming at one of the little WooWoo girls, only to get myself arrested for beating them over the head with their glittered YETI bottle.
But something amazing happened today at 7:00 am. There are a group of us that meet every Saturday in Lake Forest to get our asses kicked by one specific instructor. We were sitting there, anticipating our fate, joking about how we love being there and were glad we didn't have to have make-up on to workout, and we realized that at the end of the day, we are all #MomStrong - and friggen proud of it. We could give a shit less about the other location - about the youth that is far behind us. We friggen love ourselves, love our strength and love our super powers. Millennials and GenZ be damned. We GenXers have kids, jobs, husbands, houses, aging parents and all the other shit that comes with #adulting - yet we carve out the time to just remind ourselves how bad ass we really are. It's glorious. Everyone should do it, then encourage a girlfriend to do the same.
I wish I had a clever ending today...but I don't. The lesson here is that you must find your Super Power or things that make you feel like a Super Hero and go all in. Do whatever you can to realize that being you and the strongest version of you is all you need to make it through all the bullshit that is going to be thrown at you. We are all #MomStrong - and we should all shout it from the rooftops. GO ON WITH YOUR BAD SELF SUPER WOMAN! Have a great weekend.
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Foul mouthed, outspoken and pretty much an eternal realist.