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?