No, That’s Not Crotch Sweat. I Pissed Myself A Little Bit.

Well kids…I did something this week that was seriously like WAY WAY overdue. I should have done it a long time ago, but I kept making excuse after excuse.

And now…the excuses have finally ceased. Because I have NO MORE EXCUSES.

After successfully detoxing my body of booze, sugar, wheat, dairy, and other toxic ingredients, I dropped seven pounds (now eight and a half), and I felt the need to pry my fingers away from my laptop and get my lazy ass back to the gym.

So…on Monday night…I went to Zumba for the first time in like eight months or so.

It wasn’t pretty…and it definitely put things into perspective as far as just how OUT OF SHAPE I am right now…but somehow I managed to make it through the whole class without puking, and with a few good ass-shakes thrown into the mix.

Confession time.

I may not have hurled during class…but I did kind of piss my pants a little bit.

(Keep in mind that I’m on a total health kick right now and I’m sucking water like a fu%&ing camel).

I was fine for most of the class…and then the instructor started doing these jumps where we had to kind of shuffle our feet back and forth one in front of the other.

And yes, I know that’s kind of a shitty explanation and doesn’t really give a good visual, but it’s late, and I’m sitting here in pajama pants and a tank top and I’m not wearing a bra because I don’t have to wear a bra to be Mom Sexy in my own house, so I’m pretty confident that you don’t want to sit through a vlog of me jumping up and down and back and forth with my A-cup girls bouncing around like a couple of tiny bean bags.

Well, that…and I’m sure you don’t want to see me piss my pants on camera.

Anyhoo…when I walked out of that Zumba class on Monday night…people probably just assumed that I’d gotten an incredible workout because I was so sweaty all over.

But the sweat on the front of my pants was definitely not crotch sweat (and how effin’ gross is crotch sweat??).

Because I totally pissed myself. But only a little bit. It’s not like I had it running down my leg or anything like that. It was more like a few drips.

Does letting a few drips slip count as pissing your pants?

Whatever.

I’m still Mom Sexy, dammit.

I’m Bringing Mom Sexy Back

Well ladies…I took the plunge again last night and went to my second Zumba class!  I have been on a total health kick this week and I’m feeling like a million bucks…actually I’m feeling like one of those annoying women who jumps up and down and shouts to the world, “I Am Just So Happy I could Sh*!??”.  I guess that’s what happens when you quit eating sludge and ditch the booze and get off the couch and…MOVE!

I have to admit that when I attended my very first class on Tuesday night, I really wasn’t sure what to expect.  The sessions are held at our local middle school, and for whatever reason, I pictured us being in some classroom with the desks all pushed to the side and with the instructor in front and about 10 women in the class.  Um…yeah…I was WAY off!  Zumba is actually held in the gymnasium of the school, and there had to be at least 60 women there lined up willing and waiting to shake their tail-feathers.

I also was convinced that I’d be the only person in the room who is still bearing the scars of holiday mashed potatoes, gravy, and stuffing (and yes, I know that it’s the end of March and the holidays are long over, but for the past few weeks I’ve still been chowing down like every night is Christmas Eve).  I pictured a bunch of twenty-somethings with perfectly tight little tushes and rock hard abs.

Guess what?  I was wrong again!  There were women of all ages, shapes, and sizes in that room, and as soon as I walked in, I could tell that no one there was going to judge me or wonder what the hell I was doing there. And during the class, I was focused on watching the instructor on stage the whole time so that I could do my best to follow along, and I wasn’t paying attention to any of the women around me.  And I don’t think that they were paying attention to me either.  And I don’t know why I overestimate my importance so much as to think that every eye in that room will be glued to my flailing body and the fact that I have absolutely zero coordination.

I really enjoyed Tuesday night’s Zumba class.  And if there was any question in my mind about just how out of shape I am, that session certainly gave me a wake-up call.  I was sweating like a pig and running out of breath after about the third routine!  But it felt SO good to move. And it felt so good to let loose and have FUN.  And BOY did it feel good to SHAKE MY ASS.  I even felt a little bit SEXY.

Last night was my second class, and now I am officially hooked and will probably become a self-proclaimed Zumba junkie.  Since I’d gotten over that initial “new-kid-in-school” first night fear, I was able to get into a better groove and let my guard down a little more last night.  Actually, I think I let my guard down a LOT.  I’m not sure exactly what happened, but as soon as Shakira started playing over the speakers, a feeling of empowerment came over me, and in that moment I went from being a stay-at-home mom with A-cup breasts, a bit of a muffin-top, and a dimpled tush to a complete and total sex symbol.  That’s right…last night, I was a MILF.  And my hips don’t lie.

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Now that I’m on a Zumba kick, I’ve decided to make it my mission not only to bring sexy back, but to bring MOM SEXY back.  Because there is just no reason in hell that we should let the fact that we are mothers make us feel any less sexy than we were back in our college days.  We can still be sexy as ever, but it’s a different kind of sexy.  It’s MOM SEXY.  You know how everyone is saying that 40 is the new 30?  Well I’m declaring that MOM SEXY is the new 20-something-with-perky-boobs-and-no-stretch-marks SEXY.

Being able to girate your hips and shake your booty in a room full of people that you don’t know who are doing the exact same thing?  That’s MOM SEXY.

Attending an exercise class and knowing that there is a 99% chance that you won’t be thrown up on?  That’s MOM SEXY.

Letting it all hang out and not even bothering to suck your stomach in because you are there to have fun and still be able to breathe?  That’s MOM SEXY.

Standing behind a couple of high school cheerleaders with cute little bodies and not feeling the least bit insecure because you know they’ll in your position someday too? That’s MOM SEXY.

Having an entire hour to yourself and getting the blood flowing all through your body and really feeling like an individual again?  That’s MOM SEXY.

A couple times during the class last night, the instructor brought one of the really seasoned Zumba girls from the front row up onto the stage to demonstrate the routine with her.  I don’t know how long it’s going to take me, but I’m determined to be the girl on stage somewhere during my Zumba journey.  Granted, the last time that I set foot on a stage was at a fraternity party, and I got called into the Kappa Kappa Gamma Standards Committee meeting the next week for being drunk and un-ladylike in public.

Well, I’m an alum now and there’s no Standards Committee to call me out anymore, so I’m gettin’ back on that stage come hell or high water.

And that’s MOM SEXY.