I have been shown what my brain looks like on crack…this is what my crack will supposedly look like after becoming addicted to Pop Physique.

 I am all in and back to regimented workouts.

Last week I dug in and booked a series at Pop Physique, a one hour ballet barre based class.

The class was comprised of twenty something, Lululemon wearing skinny girls and moi.

I  show up in Lululemon, but mine are the non-binding version…baggy shorts and a Gap men’s t-shirt.

I am a total guy when I workout. I cannot tolerate fitted workout clothes…I’m happily married. I ain’t looking for no loose so why wear a pretty little pastel outfit.

I know the rap is that the clothes move with you and the fabrics are breathable, but I just want comfort.

I sweat when exercising…the only one in class who obviously does. The other females are as dry as a Secret commercial.

Is perspiration only for menopausal ladies?  Eventually, the Popettes will get theirs.

Everyone in this class is unfriendly and has long straight hair they they like toss around even when both hands are supposed to be like on the bar.

So jock that I am I book three days in a row of classes…now I can barely stand from a sitting position because my abs are on fire. After three days of imitating a high heel stance at the barre, I need to borrow my mom’s walker because my calves are not my friend.

I can’t even turn around to see if my butt has been elevated to the next level.             .

I thought exercise was supposed to make you feel vibrant, energized. Ultimately, I will, “butt” right now I feel as if I was in a head on collision.

I will attempt to “Party On.”