I looked at my phone, the one thing that seems to take up more and more of my time, and a message flashed up ‘Do you want to come to my gym and try are Barre class?’. Naturally, my response was a swift and enthusiastic YES.
When the day came, I dressed carefully, knowing it was an expensive gym I picked out my best Sweaty Betty leggings and a nice Charli Cohen top. Forgetting that I’d be barefoot, exposing my unpainted runner’s toenails and hairy big toe, it’s enough to put you off eating for a week.
I was so busy faffing in the changing room that we where last to arrive, thankfully this meant I could hide at the back of the class, it was a chance to find my way. We started with small gentle ballet style moves, within an instant I felt transported back to my youth. Squeezing my chubby but content body into bodysuits, dancing like no one was watching. Awoken from my peaceful thoughts I noted our instructor, she’s asking us to get some weights for the next moves…
My initial reaction was ‘Brilliant, I can do this, here I am in Barre class feeling the burn’, reader, I had no idea…
I sniggered when Lorraine handed me a couple of pink 1kg hand weights and a small ball, ‘trust me’ she whispered. I’d say this was around the time it all started going horribly wrong. When squatting I was kindly reminded to squat as if I was in Barre, not body pump, we where told to hold onto the rail. In what I’ll call, a moment of enthusiasm I nearly pulled the bar off the wall.
This was the exact point the instructor commanded that we join her at the front, of course, my immediate reaction was to laugh. Now, here’s the point, if you’re going to take any advice from me about attending a Barre class, it would be don’t snigger, people take it very seriously. I was faced with an array of unamused looks, I continued to squat, with the unfriendly addition of an exercise ball in between my thighs and an instructor to my left.
At that point, I clicked she was clad in this season’s Sweaty Betty, which was clearly a great starting point for us to become besties. If only I wasn’t failing miserably at her class, moving like Bender from Futurama and becoming increasingly concerned about the state of my toes.
Oh yes, of course – I forgot the added pleasure of working out in front of a mirror, constantly reminded of my overindulgence, overgrown fringe and horrified looking face. Dam, I was worthy of 3 likes on Instagram, mainly because no one sees my posts and secondly, I have a few friends who feel sorry for me.
Finally, it was time to stretch and the class was over, remembering my manners I thanked her for letting me join her class. I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t shout, ‘see you soon’ as I was leaving. It was okay, I know I’m a bull in a china shop, what I didn’t expect, is that despite my resistance, I really did enjoy myself.
I guess the question is, did I actually enjoy it? The answer would be YES but would I return? Sure, if I was allowed…
Have you ever been to Barre before?