A new hobby

Apparently, when you become an adult your body does not bend the way it did when you were 6.

Unless you are an adult who bends for a living.  This actually encompasses several professions, so now is probably the time for me to get to my point.

I started, reluctantly at first, going to a gymnastics class at the YMCA.  My sister Kimberlie has been in the class for awhile now and raves about it.  She forced me to go one day after I completely exhausted my excuse bank.

And I liked it.

I liked it so much I decided to go back 8 months later.

Then I went again two weeks after that.

I haven't quite mastered the double twisty-loopdy doo, my handstand is more like a handtoppleover, my hip cracks every time I do a cartwheel and when I do a backwards roll I look like a frog in heat.  But I can do a mean somersault.  And I can fall onto foam pads like the rest of 'em.

But that's not the only reason I go.  The thought that, in theory, I could eventually flip myself forwards or backwards without help is super exciting.  I've missed my chance to be on the cheerleading squad, fawr-shawwwr, but there are endless opportunities to wow crowds with a triple axle.  Um....?

And as soon as I stop falling on my head, grow some muscle, and have that radical inner ear equilibrium balancing surgery that probably is not even real yet, I just might walk out of that class with some skeeelz.  (skeels=skills, for my older readers.  I said older, not old....moms.  And I said moms because mom and mom-in-law would have taken too much effort.  Why must I constantly explain myself?  That was rhetorical.)