I’m failing Fitness 101

Once upon a time, in the days before marriage, kids, divorce, and drama, I was an athlete.  No really, I was.  I used to run several miles every morning and play soccer competitively. In fact, I lived for soccer.

These, my friends, are no longer those days.  In fact, just today I failed Fitness 101.

Rule #1:  Do not eat a greasy sandwich an hour before  attending a Zumba class.  You might puke.  Or, at a minimum, you will pray to God that you will puke so that you can feel better.

I won’t make that mistake again.  At least not until next Zumba Tuesday.

After I recovered from Zumba, I had dinner with a delightful new friend that I share a lot in common with.  We are both independently wealthy, Nobel Peace Prize recipients, and former supermodels.

And we have bridges for sale in the Mojave Desert.

Alas, we actually share a lot of the yucky stuff in common – ex-husbands that breeze in and out of our boys’ lives and only pay child support when threatened with court.

My mother was actually the first to discover this friend years ago.  When my parents got a divorce, Mom attended Divorce Care group meetings at a church.  She kept telling me about this woman, and insisted that I meet her because we had so much in common.  Uh, Mom, what could we possibly have in common?  She is divorced and I am MARRIED.

Fast forward a few years.  Mothers are very wise.  Don’t ever doubt it.

We had a great time at dinner tonight, sharing stories and laughing.  Seriously, some of the situations that we have been in are funnier than fiction.  We couldn’t make this stuff up if tried.

For example, one early Saturday morning, I received a phone call from the police department asking if I still owned a certain over-sized truck that was registered in my name.  Yes and no.  Why?

Apparently, The Ex needed gas after a night out on the town, but when he got to the pump, he realized that he did not have his wallet.  When he tried to leave the gas station, the truck completely ran out of gas and stalled.  He called his drunk friend to bring him money for gas.  Once the friend arrived, the geniuses realized , “Oh my, the gas station isn’t even open,” so they left the truck AT THE PUMP and went home to pass out.  When the gas station opened the next day, the attendant reported the abandoned truck to the police and it was towed away.  I was the lucky one that got to call The Ex about it.

Me:        Do you need a ride to our kid’s basketball game today?

Ex:          “Yeah, how’d you know?”

Me:         Just a hunch.  Do you know where your truck is?

Ex:          “Not really.  Do you?”

Me:        Uh, yes, because the police woke me up at 6:00am!

My new friend hasn’t had that exact thing happen, but her ex has been to prison for failure to pay child support, so we can just call it a tie in the Winning-at-Losing Game.

She’s considering trying Zumba, so I will soon find out if we have that in common.  You know, the being fitness-challenged thing.  Or I could discover that it’s just me failing Zumba class.

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