Foreign Fitness: The SAHM Contingency

I've taken Total Body Conditioning in Nicaragua, Step Aerobics 3 is Amsterdam, some sort of French Vinyasa in Geneva, but nothing--and I mean nothing--could have prepared me for the spin class I stumbled into in Tulsa yesterday morning.

There's this crew of hot-bodied stay-at-home moms in this town (and by stay-at-home I mean go-to-the-gym), and I marveled at their culture. They're all laying around--a sugar-free half-caf nonfat vanilla latte in arm's reach--with their magic circles and their ankle weights, and I want to point at my belly swell and be like, Dude, I'm preggers, but surely they're thinking, Whoa, she can't be pregnant, she's pushing forty. (Okay, pushing thirty-four, but still...they pop them out young in these parts...)

Anyway, witness the eerie Greek chorus of spinning:

Spin Instructor:
Are you doing this for your husband?

Class (in unison):
NO!!!

Spin Instructor:
Are you doing this for your kids?

Class (in unison):
NO!!!

Spin Instructor:
Who are you doing it for?

Class (in unison):
ME!!!

Spin Instructor:
I can't hear you!!!

Class:
ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Stay tuned for tomorrow when I take the downward psychological slash spiritual slash emotional spiral catalyzed by the fact that being a SAHM and having a rock-hard butt from spin actually sounds half-appealing.