The other day I bought a purple workout outfit. I accompanied Chris to the Reebok outlet to buy him a new pair of shoes. I usually steer clear of athletic stores, because I don’t have a sporty bone in my body. I also don’t wear sneakers. I think they are ugly and bulky and I tend to trip over my own feet when I’m wearing them. They also accentuate the size of my massive feet, and I really don’t need any extra attention drawn to the fact that I am walking around on size 10 canoes. (Yes! And I’m 5 foot 3; clearly descended from Hobbits.)

While I have never been chubby, I have also never been one of those lithe women who can look like they weigh 98 pounds while wearing a flowing caftan. I’m short and curvy, and I’m basically ok with that. While there are plenty of clothes that accentuate the positive points of my figure, spandex isn’t one of them, and spandex seems to be the fabric of choice for most workout apparel. However, I couldn’t help but love the cute yoga pants with the embroidered flowers and the matching shirt that was actually a shirt and not a bra masquerading as a shirt. After all, they were purple and on sale. I wasn’t swayed by the fact that they were a “moisture management system” designed to keep you cooler, drier and more comfortable, because I’ve never had any reason to be concerned about sweating before.

I made the mistake of mentioning to Chris that I thought they were really cute, and he jumped on the opportunity to suggest that I go work out at the gym to which we have a free pass and live directly across the street from. I mentioned that I had been thinking about taking a pilates class, and the next thing I knew, I’d purchased the clothes and committed to working out. (Well, as committed as you can get when you have the receipt carefully stashed in your purse and the assurance that you can return the stuff if you change your mind).

The next day I ventured across the street, and for the first time in my life, entered a gym, where I signed up to take a pilates class three times a week. Upon informing Chris of what I was doing, he advised me to go buy a sports bra. I tried to beg off, because I really loathe bra shopping, but he insisted, so I went and tried on a few sports bras with absolutely no success. Would someone out there like to explain to me why most sports bras don’t have underwire or why instead of creating two breasts, they smoosh them into one bubble-like uniboob? I really don’t get it. I decided that my usual bra was good enough, and that wearing a sports bra would be crossing lines that, in my case, should never be crossed.

I have always had this image of a gym being a place where hard bodied athletic people converged, lifted heavy objects and flexed. I was very intimidated by this, knowing that even in my non spandex work out clothes a few rolls of post baby pudge were pretty visible. Any time I have ever tried working out, it has been in the privacy of my own home, and usually to a Sweatin’ to the Oldies video, and that’s not intimidating at all, because I could be 300 pounds and still be more attractive than Richard Simmons.

I walked by several ripped airmen on my way into the gym, and totally expected to walk into a room of toned, tan, sporty air force girls who could run for miles without breaking a sweat. Instead, I was very happy to find that my classmates were mostly older air force wives who were just as out of shape as I was. Talk about a morale boost! Unfortunately, this doesn’t help the fact that most of the exercises we’ve been doing are killing me. Having not been on speaking terms with most of my muscles for many, many years, it has been a full body assault, and I’ve enjoyed every minute! I figure if I keep this up for a few months I’m going to look pretty darn hot! After all, no pain, no gain, right?