I kid you not

The thing about joining Curves (Kody teases me and calls it Shapes) is that it’s not like any other Gym. And that’s good, if you’re my age. No spandex, lycra, no bare midriffs and buff bodies. No cute little gym bummies. Curves, well, it’s a different feel.

I walked in the first time and saw lumpy and frumpy gals (just like me) working out in baggy old t-shirts and double knit pants to the sound track of Mama Mia. The place was filled with smiling, cheerful women, mostly middle aged but quite a few in their 80’s, too.

I felt right at home.

So Monday morning my friend D and I are working hard when a cute little white haired lady starts her routine. D and I exchange looks. We suppress our laughter. Barely. Cute little old lady is doing her workout in a dress. With hose on, no less. Oh. My. I know, I know. Peels of laughter.

Give her credit though, she did have on sensible flat heeled shoes. And turns out it all makes perfect sense. I overheard said cute little old lady say when headed out the door that she was ‘off to do her visiting teaching.’

Hee hee hee hee. This just slays me. I came home and told Megs. We laughed it up good. Then Megs suddenly turns all serious.

“That’s totally something you would do, Mom”.

Yup. I would. Maybe. Remember that time I cut up an old sheet and made myself a robe/toga? I wore it all that summer until you secretly took it and threw it away. See, you are nice like that. I am banking on the fact that you and your sister will STOP ME should I ever get a notion to be in such serious Gym dress code violation. Tee hee hee. Chortle, chortle.