the quality of being moderate; restraint; avoidance of extremes or excesses; temperance.
In moderation, without excess; moderately; temperately.
The Resa:
Extremist Extraordinaire (See DIVA)
I'm kind of a do or die kind of gal.
Geez, that sounds gruesome.
Let's try, now or never. All or nothing.
Not half assed.
There, that sounds lady like.
My co worker was teasing me the other day because on Tuesdays I go to five dance classes. I know, it sounds like a lot. I go to two before work and three after work but they are all so different that until I hit those last ten minutes of the fifth class I've tricked my body into enjoying the pain. One is a strength training ballet class. (Dancing like a ballerina is not, in fact, as easy and graceful as they make it look in the movies. The balance of control without rigidity gives new appreciation to the term Prima Donna).
Two of the classes are dance classes where I learn a routine, so half of those classes are quasi mellow cardio and the other half are a do-the-routine-a-million-times-to-get-your-heart-rate-up cardio. Zumba is another one of the classes and that class is cardio on steroids. Sometimes the teacher says she even kicks her own ass. And surely that ain't no easy feat. The fifth class is Pilates which while mellow in terms of cardio it is the only fitness class I've experienced that manages to isolate the muscles with the most tiny, controlled movements and yet, still, my abs, legs and rear manage to leave the hour ON. FIRE.
Impressively subtle German masochistic ritual.
And yet I go back for more.
Twice a week.
Tuesday is my overkill day but the rest of the week I average 2-3 a day.
(And I rest on Sunday because if the Big G got a day off then I guess my muscles deserve a sabbath too). But truth be told if it weren't for the whole Your muscles need a day to recover and grow adage I would go to Turbo Kick on Sundays too.
Because I freaking love these classes. They are like crack to me.
Dance is the new Prince Charming in my life.
Don't you ever just want to go home and SIT? My co worker asked me.
I scrunched up my eyebrows in thought as I mulled over her question.
No, I answered. Not when I could be dancing.
Last week, towards the end of the week, when my classes and work were beginning to catch up with me, I felt tired and took a nap before class. I had reached those first fuzzy rems of sleep and my blankets were willing me to stay where I lay and skip Burlesque because warm. cozy. blankets. soft. down. comforter. fluffy. pillow. sexy. dreams. mmmm.....Don't get up!
But then I remembered all the friends I've been making at the studio. And I thought, if I don't go they'll wonder where I'm at! I'd already influenced a few gals around me,which is ultimately my goal in life. I want to inspire women around the world to wear red lipstick and strut their inner Divas for all to drool over. One Diva at a time! Huzzah! My favorite inspiration to date was a gal who kept teasing me for dressing up at the gym, wearing a full face of makeup and rocking my fabulous hair accessories--feathers and veils to boot! But the night I dragged my tired booty to Burlesque she had put her hair in these fabulous 40's style pin curls and even painted her eyes! I realized the reason she'd been mocking my girly look at the gym was because she wanted to play dress up too. And to think I might have missed it!
The other thing that was great that night was I had emailed the teacher about the dance team auditions and after a few correspondence I asked if sometime in one of the classes we could dance to one of Christina Aguilera's songs from Burlesque because, well, they are fabulous and the class is called Burlesque! And just a couple days later, that night, I walked in late (because I really did have to d-r-a-g my butt from my bed) and the Burlesque soundtrack was playing! The teacher had choreographed a routine to my song of choice just for me and I felt like the coolest girl in school wanted me to be happy.
And my girlfriends cheered, You're here! We saved you a spot!
And wouldn't you know, it was front and center.
As God intended.
I felt SO loved.
And dance class kicked my comfy beds ASS that night.
Grandma has even come to understand my love affair with dance.
Tonight classes started later than when I leave on most days and after I'd been home awhile I came out to the living room and Grandma asked me, most concerned, You're not going to dance? Are you sick?
It gave me a good chuckle.
Grandma knows the only thing stopping me from dance class is the plague.
And knowing me, I probably wouldn't let that stop me either.
I'm a determined little extremist.
A couple weeks ago my Starbucks had what we call a Spike Day which is basically hip business lingo for Please sell more of our expensive coffee because we are not making budget this quarter.
And my store is like the black sheep of our district. We sell so few pounds of coffee that our own manager bought two pounds the first day because he knew nobody was going to buy any. And we had a goal of 10 pounds a day, two days, 20 pounds total.
Never. Gonna. Happen.
But my boss had yet to see The Resa work her magic.
Day 1 of Casi Cielo spike day I worked 12-4.
I sold 20. Pounds. Of. Coffee.
Yup.
This gal has SKILLS.
We sold something like 25 pounds total that first day because I have a kindred spirit there and she is almost more bubbly than I am. I told her with how pushy and adorable we both are, we could run the world.
The district manager called to check where we were at in sales that afternoon and my manager had to tell her multiple times on the phone the number we'd sold because she was in such a state of disbelief.
The next day I sold so much coffee we ran out and so I sold all our half pounds.
I think my manager fell a little in love with me that week.
He did buy me two bottles of champagne as a prize for being so legendary.
And apparently that's only part ONE of my prize.
I heart presents.
I may even send myself flowers on Valentine's Day.
I deserve them.
I'M FABULOUS!
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