I have to admit – this week I was grumpy. And who wouldn’t be after getting back from nearly a month of holidays in sunny Australia surrounded by family, including a mum who looked after all your washing, and arriving back in freezing London to five days of non-stop WORK!!! Yes, that’s right, I had the post-holidays, post-Christmas blues.
So despite all my good intentions, I still hadn’t got my feeling-sorry-for-my-life self off the bed to do any kind of activity come Friday. That morning, when I was sniffling away on the way to work, is when I knew it had to change. I wasn’t going to cope moping around the house, crossing off each hour until the weekend each week. No, it was time for Zumba.
Extreme I know, but I’ve heard so many good things about Zumba and seeing all the happy people coming out of each class at the gym made me a bit jealous.
Having fun and exercising. Does that really happen?
So Friday night, I dragged myself along to the gym for the first time since getting back and it was kind of exciting. I strutted through those change rooms feeling so proud of myself. In Zumba, I stood near the back and couldn’t do a lot of the moves (how do you get your legs and arms to move in different directions at the same time) but I laughed a lot. And people chatted to me. And I got exercise.
And you know what, I was happy again.