I used to love being pampered, manicured, pedicured, buffed, massaged … all in the name of getting my pretty on. I remember one time during a pedicure, the technician commented that I had really pretty feet. I guess it’s all relative, she’d probably seen her fair share of not-so-nice paws. Still, I appreciated the compliment. Especially since I was a few weeks into my second pregnancy, at a time when I could still see my toes, and I was likely glowing with the fact that I was actually pregnant again after another fertility roller coaster. Still young-ish at 39, with a shiny happy marriage and preschooler. Those were the days.
Nowadays, I still love being pampered, love a massage and have discovered the shellac manicure. ( The irony of having more time but less money for such luxuries does not escape me.) But the feet – ack, they are no longer pretty. In fact, they are pretty jacked up. Bunions – check. Flat feet (thanks kids!) – orthotics – check. Plantar fasciitis-check. Banged up toes due to aggressive workouts and bad shoes – double-check. So I get quite anxious when it comes to pedicures. I have found a great technician who is not judgemental at all. She scolds me when I let my heels crack with fissures the size of the Grand Canyon. Gotta love her. But I suppose it’s just another aspect of aging and life that I need to come to terms with.
The workouts that I love? They are getting harder and harder. I love the music, love the beat, love the moves. It’s just that at over 50 now, I lose my breath faster, the choreography is not coming to me as quickly or sticking as well, the punches that I throw are feeling weaker than they were even just last year. My balance is totally off, I’m heavier (although not so noticeable – it sits on me funny), I’m only sleeping 6 hours a night tops, and popping ibuprofen and Robax more than I should.
I’ve decided to take on more stretching, core-focused exercise, and am doing more Bodyflow classes, the class I started with way back when the kids were young and I was pretty darn flexible. They are a fantastic workout, as I get pretty sweaty holding those yoga poses, and trying not to crash every time we have a balancing pose. It’s not as exciting as the dance / hip hop or punchy/kicky combat, though.
One thing that helps with my balance?
I stole my son’s obnoxious Skyzone socks for grip.
Yeah, trampoline socks for flowy yoga classes.
Isn’t it ironic, don’tcha think?