This morning I accidentally went to an old lady aerobics class.
I belong to this group of council gyms you see, with a very vague programme. I’ve been to two different ‘dance aerobics’ classes for instance – in one of them I was given glow sticks and made to bounce around in the dark to 90s dance music, and in the other I turned up to find everyone is professional dance shoes, ready for their hour of salsa.
This morning then I had taken a chance by signing up to a class just called ‘aerobics’.
On the way in, I bumped into the woman who normally teaches my yoga group, who it turns out was covering the class.
‘You’re not here for the aerobics are you?’ she said, eyeing me suspiciously.
‘Yes,’ I said, and quickly added ‘I’ve not been before,’ as though that would excuse me from whatever blunder I’d inadvertently made.
‘Only I think it’s more of a senior class,’ she said, ‘I’m not sure how much aerobics will be actually going on.’
Super. Old lady aerobics. I didn’t actually mind, because I imagined it would be more my pace, and I am going to be a granny in a few months after all. So there I was, in a room full of senior women many of whom, to be fair, looked in much better shape than me. And I was right, it turns out they WERE in much better shape than me, or at least they LOOKED it, because they don’t have my BRIGHT RED BEETROOT FACE.
Me after the old lady aerobics. 😱 pic.twitter.com/r3pg37MWCP
— Slummy Single Mummy 🐱 (@mummyblogger) March 14, 2019
This is after 20 minutes of floor stretches and a walk in the cold air back to the car, so it has calmed down massively.
My bright red beetroot face has been a lifelong affliction, and one that did NOT serve me well during secondary school. For starters, I was the WORST blusher. You really just had to look at me and say ‘are you blushing?’ for me to suddenly look like my face was about to explode. If you knew me at around 14 years old you will be able to testify that this is not an exaggeration. This was not an adorable pink tinge in my cheeks, this was RED, all over, with actual heat radiating.
The same effect happens with any kind of exercise. I don’t even need to get sweaty or out of breath, or even find something particularly hard work, which is frustrating, because everyone else assumes you’re about to pass out when actually it’s just a defective face.
About half way through the class the teacher gave me a slightly concerned look and actually turned on the air conditioning. I wanted to say ‘I’m fine honestly, I’m not about to have a stroke, this is just my weird skin,’ but I felt like that might draw attention to it.
It’s worse when it’s something new that I’ve never done before, i.e. old lady aerobics, because I think my face goes into panic mode and goes even redder, just to be on the safe side. You can see this in the post I wrote about giving up running – the earlier photos are more beetroot, fading as I get more used to it. I was more of a top left at the old lady aerobics midway point. You can see why she turned on the air conditioning.
Obviously it’s much less of an issue now I’m 40 and not 14, and don’t care what anyone actually thinks of me anymore, but it’s still annoying, especially when you’re in an aerobics class with a dozen senior citizens, none of whom have so much as broken a sweat.
So there we go.
Any other beetroot faces out there who can sympathise with me?