Suzy Q Homemaker

I could make this a drawn-out post about the ups and downs of the fitness world, how class numbers ebb and flow like the changing of seasons, blah blah blah.  But this is about me.  Me and my frustration with working at one particular facility.  This is about my annoyances, grievances, whatever you call them.  And yes, it is about race.

It’s about race because I have had a member tell me first hand that she wasn’t going to give me a chance–that basically because I’m just a little white girl she wasn’t even going to try my class.  Then she attended an event, saw me teach, and changed her mind.  So does this mean I need to prove myself within the urban demographic to be taken seriously as a Zumba instructor?  Is the mindset around there such that in order to teach a particular fitness class you need to be just a little bit ethnic?  It’s how it feels to me.

After only teaching for a year, I’m about ready to give up on this location.  I’ve tried several time slots with the hopes of maintaining a decent class size.  The latest mistake was switching nights with another instructor.  I should have just let my Friday night class die like the other ones and quit teaching down there.  It would certainly make facing an empty lobby that used to be packed to overflowing whenever I visited a Thursday night class a little more tolerable.  No matter what anyone says, it is me.  It isn’t the time of year, the fact that it’s almost summer, or whatever bandaid excuses I’ve been offered.  I’ll put money on the color of my skin.

Oh, I’ve been there.  I used to have my favorite instructors and was disappointed whenever there was a sub or a change in the schedule.  So I know.  I empathize with the people who see that I’m going to be stepping in for someone else and decide they would rather just stay home.  That’s fine.  I’d rather have a half-empty class than a class full of people who check out mentally the minute they see me coming.  Believe me–it happens every time.

I don’t expect gain anything by writing this other than a little catharsis since it’s been weighing on my mind for months.  All I can really say is that I may not return to that class after this baby is born.  I’ll keep my other location since I have a better reception/following over there.  I just don’t know how much longer I can put up with this foolishness.

How did I make it this far without whining about a million things on my blog?  I have had SO much to complain about, too!  And this is supposed to be the perfect outlet for venting about all that is wrong with my life.

Ok, there’s nothing wrong with my life but there have certainly been more than a few instances when I feared my sanity would be in check.  A small list:

• the water heater flooding our house
• the dry-out that included the loudest fans in the universe
• appointments with contractors, insurance adjusters, and restoration services
• lack of flooring in part of our house
• the pile of clothes that don’t fit

I’d get into the gory details of the flood and subsequent chain of events but that’s boring.  So I’ll answer the #1 question that seems to be on everyone’s lips whenever they haven’t seen me in more than a day.

How are you feeling?

Thanks for asking!  Physically, I’m feeling strangely well now.  Oh yes, I felt like I was on death’s doorstep for those first few months starting fairly soon after my encounter with the stomach bug that landed me in the ER for IV fluids.  With the other babies I had raging  nausea that had me puking day and night if I didn’t have food on an absolutely regular basis.  I clearly remember the one time I went shopping with my mom and sisters when I was pregnant with Corey.  I think we were at WalMart and I was starting to feel queasy.  We bought some oranges and shortly after eating one we still had to pull over for me to hurl in someone’s yard.  Thankfully, I’ve only puked about four times with this one (counting this morning).  And those times are completely unprovoked.  Like no warning, run to the bathroom or the vomitus is going to fly.  It’s so bizarre.  Overall, I’ve been feeling poorly in the evenings.  I’ve been calling it Backward Sickness.  Poor Jamie has to endure my whining after a long day of teaching whiny kids.  Feel sorry for him.

I’m still teaching Zumba and plan to do so until I am miserably large or something happens that keeps me from doing too much physically.  It doesn’t help that I’m having nightmares about having the baby months too early or him getting kidnapped.  Do you like how I default to “him”?  We don’t know the gender and won’t find out until he/she is here.  In my dreams we have a boy.  I think it’s because I’m thinking there’s no way Jamie and I could possibly make a girl.  The odds aren’t in our favor.  Yes, we’re driving other people crazy because they want to buy baby things for us, but I don’t care! Ha!  No, I do. But not enough to go spend  $1000+ on an ultrasound.  Sorry!  Don’t forget that we’re planning another homebirth.  While I am receiving shadow care with a CNM, we don’t actually plan on getting any other tests done that would require Blue Cross Blue Shield to bleed us drier than they’ve already bled us.

Now that I’ve opened the floodgates and reactivated this blog, I hope to be back in action.  I’ve had horrible writer’s block.  Plus I spend most of the day serving Sir Timothy and that requires constantly getting up and down–it makes sitting down to complete a thought virtually impossible.  So if this entry is scattered, blame him.

Happy Tuesday, y’all.