The Gym Class
I try embracing all my €˜wobbly bits' as a rule but there comes a time post birth when I think that the mum-tum and bum have to go. When I get an idea I have to do it yesterday. In about three point six minutes I have jumped on the phone, found a local gym with a crèche and decided I will not only join, but go everyday €“ starting with the 9.30 am step class tomorrow.
I get up and rummage through my clothes €˜heap' for some foxy gym attire whilst breastfeeding my one and a half year old Mr. Bean and playing princesses with my four year old Princess Pea. I am not as spunky as I hoped in my gym rig (flared leggings with mum-tum hanging over the top complete with a tight singlet with huge milky in two bras as scaffolding) BUT I will be hot€¦.. soon.
I face the monsoon that Bean throws at me with as much gentle parenting as a goat with hemorrhoids. I manage to jostle his extremely soiled nappy off him despite the hurricane that is where his legs should be. Pretty soon I am covered in what appears to be a not very well digested mixture of sultanas and I am not sure what else and have to resort to even tighter singlet.
Bean on the breast again and using the €˜calm voice' (which always means I am about to scream or burst into tears) I ask the Pea to please help me out by getting in the car. She transforms herself into a rainbow of sparkles, tulle and hair clips and flounces around in vague circles. I take a deep breath and explain that we are late for the really fun crèche adventure and try to direct her pirouetting to the car.
Behind the wheel and children reluctantly restrained I wipe a couple of tears away and tell myself I can do this. I arrive at the gym just in the knickers of time and manage to get the kids to stay with the dodgy crèche lady and find a step not too close to the front.
About five minutes into the class I am feeling fantastic, mentally patting myself on the back for making it. About ten minutes into the class I am totally lost and nearly twist an ankle trying to sort out the complicated choreography. By the end I am red as a beet, have a visible sweat mark down my bum crack, two breast milk leak marks and my legs are so wobbly I just have to stand still or risk a collapse.
I might make that thrice a week rather than everyday. Still it is good to get out.
Author - Chrissy Butler
Chrissy Butler is a mother, artist, author and doula. She lives with her two children and partner in Byron Bay. Chrissy is the author of the popular homebirth children's book "My Brother Jimi Jazz". She has just released a second book called 'The Wonderful Place' which is a celebration of full term breastfeeding.
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