like a small but significant uprising.
‘Alicia! You made it!’ said Juliet when she walked in. Juliet managed to look chic in a pair of yoga pants and a clingy turquoise shirt, whereas Alicia instantly felt like a PE reject in her jogging bottoms and a black vest top. You were meant to wear something fitted on top, apparently, so that you and the teacher were able to see your muscles working as you danced, but Alicia wasn’t sure she actually wanted her gut bobbling around on display to a room full of strangers. Not everyone was so modest, though. Some women in the studio were wearing floaty harem pants and cropped tops, which showed off sickeningly toned sets of abs. One or two of them even had golden coin belts around their trim waists, in proper Egyptian style.
Oh, help. Why had she ever thought she could do this? ‘Where’s Wendy?’ she asked, looking around for moral support. There was no way solidly built Wendy would be in anything sheer or clinging either, she reassured herself.
‘Bailed out,’ Juliet said, with a hint of scorn. ‘Said she’s coming down with a cold. Coming down with skivilitis, more like.’ She waved at someone across the room. ‘Look, there’s Martine. I’ll introduce you, she’s fab.’
Alicia just had time to say hi to Juliet’s friend Martine when a blonde woman in a purple cropped top and matching yoga pants strode to the front of the studio and spoke into a clip-on microphone. ‘Evening, all,’ she said, beaming around at them as the chatter died down. ‘I’m Debbie. Everyone ready for the warm-up? Then let’s begin!’
To Alicia’s surprise, the class wasn’t as difficult as she’d been dreading. The warm-up seemed to be largely cardio-style exercises with big hip-circles and bottom-swings, then came a series of more focused exercises, such as squats and crunches. ‘Squats and pliés will strengthen our legs for the shimmies and hip-accents,’ explained Debbie. ‘Whereas these abdominal exercises will give us beautiful belly-movements.’
Alicia was starting to care less and less about having beautiful belly-movements after countless agonizing stomach-crunches and it was a relief to move on to the dance steps themselves. Debbie showed them hip-bumps, ribcage-circles and snake-arms and, apart from poking her neighbour in the face during the arm-ripples and having to keep a hold of her ancient joggers every time she swung her hips, for fear of revealing her bum-crack to the woman behind, it wasn’t long before Alicia realized that she was actually quite enjoying herself.
‘Practise the routine over the week, and we’ll keep adding to it throughout the term,’ Debbie said at the end. ‘That’s it for tonight’s class, thank you all very much. See you next time!’
Whew. Alicia was exhausted. She was absolutely hanging. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so done in, apart from after childbirth perhaps. Despite the deep throbbing weariness of her limbs, and the embarrassment she’d felt when she discovered just how hopeless the elastic in her joggers was, she had what could only be endorphins a-gogo sprinting elatedly around her tired, hot body. She had done it: she’d leapt and stretched, she’d shimmied and swayed. What was more, it had even been a laugh, bum-flashing moments aside. She hadn’t felt so alive and tingly for ages. Months. Years, even.
‘That was FUN,’ she said to Juliet as they went to put their shoes on. ‘Thank you so much for letting me tag along.’
‘Pleasure!’ Juliet said. ‘Really glad you could come. Are you going to join us for a drink? You’d be very welcome.’
Did she want a drink? Ohh . . . She did want a drink, she could absolutely murder a large, cold, ice-clinking gin and tonic, but on second thoughts she was sweaty and red-faced and probably a bit smelly too. ‘Better not,’ she said. ‘Hugh’s expecting me. Another time, though.’
‘Brilliant. Well, see you tomorrow then.’
‘See you. Bye,
‘Alicia! You made it!’ said Juliet when she walked in. Juliet managed to look chic in a pair of yoga pants and a clingy turquoise shirt, whereas Alicia instantly felt like a PE reject in her jogging bottoms and a black vest top. You were meant to wear something fitted on top, apparently, so that you and the teacher were able to see your muscles working as you danced, but Alicia wasn’t sure she actually wanted her gut bobbling around on display to a room full of strangers. Not everyone was so modest, though. Some women in the studio were wearing floaty harem pants and cropped tops, which showed off sickeningly toned sets of abs. One or two of them even had golden coin belts around their trim waists, in proper Egyptian style.
Oh, help. Why had she ever thought she could do this? ‘Where’s Wendy?’ she asked, looking around for moral support. There was no way solidly built Wendy would be in anything sheer or clinging either, she reassured herself.
‘Bailed out,’ Juliet said, with a hint of scorn. ‘Said she’s coming down with a cold. Coming down with skivilitis, more like.’ She waved at someone across the room. ‘Look, there’s Martine. I’ll introduce you, she’s fab.’
Alicia just had time to say hi to Juliet’s friend Martine when a blonde woman in a purple cropped top and matching yoga pants strode to the front of the studio and spoke into a clip-on microphone. ‘Evening, all,’ she said, beaming around at them as the chatter died down. ‘I’m Debbie. Everyone ready for the warm-up? Then let’s begin!’
To Alicia’s surprise, the class wasn’t as difficult as she’d been dreading. The warm-up seemed to be largely cardio-style exercises with big hip-circles and bottom-swings, then came a series of more focused exercises, such as squats and crunches. ‘Squats and pliés will strengthen our legs for the shimmies and hip-accents,’ explained Debbie. ‘Whereas these abdominal exercises will give us beautiful belly-movements.’
Alicia was starting to care less and less about having beautiful belly-movements after countless agonizing stomach-crunches and it was a relief to move on to the dance steps themselves. Debbie showed them hip-bumps, ribcage-circles and snake-arms and, apart from poking her neighbour in the face during the arm-ripples and having to keep a hold of her ancient joggers every time she swung her hips, for fear of revealing her bum-crack to the woman behind, it wasn’t long before Alicia realized that she was actually quite enjoying herself.
‘Practise the routine over the week, and we’ll keep adding to it throughout the term,’ Debbie said at the end. ‘That’s it for tonight’s class, thank you all very much. See you next time!’
Whew. Alicia was exhausted. She was absolutely hanging. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so done in, apart from after childbirth perhaps. Despite the deep throbbing weariness of her limbs, and the embarrassment she’d felt when she discovered just how hopeless the elastic in her joggers was, she had what could only be endorphins a-gogo sprinting elatedly around her tired, hot body. She had done it: she’d leapt and stretched, she’d shimmied and swayed. What was more, it had even been a laugh, bum-flashing moments aside. She hadn’t felt so alive and tingly for ages. Months. Years, even.
‘That was FUN,’ she said to Juliet as they went to put their shoes on. ‘Thank you so much for letting me tag along.’
‘Pleasure!’ Juliet said. ‘Really glad you could come. Are you going to join us for a drink? You’d be very welcome.’
Did she want a drink? Ohh . . . She did want a drink, she could absolutely murder a large, cold, ice-clinking gin and tonic, but on second thoughts she was sweaty and red-faced and probably a bit smelly too. ‘Better not,’ she said. ‘Hugh’s expecting me. Another time, though.’
‘Brilliant. Well, see you tomorrow then.’
‘See you. Bye,
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