Sunday, January 29, 2012
I can't decide if I want to talk about the Sha'Bam class I participated in today or the cost of eating Organic and my constant search for affordable Organic produce and groceries, but let's start with the Sha'Bam workout.
I have long thought that it would be great to be able to dance like I did back in the day when I was in my 20's and in the bars and clubs all the time without having to stay up past 11 pm and drink my face off. Sha'Bam is close to a solution. I went with a friend who assured me it was so much fun and such a good work out that I would love it. I did get an amazing work out, but did I love it? Yes and no. The problem with any of these classes is that I don't get to pick the music. I don't get to FEEL the music the way I want to feel it in order to really lose myself in the class. And then there is the inevitable issue of being in a room full of sweaty bodies, many of whom are even more hopeless than I am at keeping the pace or think they are Jennifer Beals in Flashdance like the 30-something gay guy one row up and right of me who was cracking me up with his flailing arms and theatrical manoeuvres. At one point he jumped up on the stage with the instructor, so lost in the music, he forgot his place - you GO girl!
I actually did find myself in the groove from time to time, lost myself in my moves, but no sooner did I feel my body at one with the music, the instructor would change up the choreography while I stumbled to learn the next move trying not to body slam the woman next to me who looked like I could easily knock her over with my baby finger she was so skinny. Skinny but flabby - what's up with that? If the day ever came where I weighed 110 lbs soaking wet, you can be damn sure there would be a complete absence of flab. Size zero with muffin top - it's beyond me.
However, the class is promoted as a "no rules" - go with your inner dancey diva of choice but don't go too crazy, cause despite the claim, it is still choreographed and believe me, no one wants to see your version of a pussy-cat doll, so don't go loosening up your buttons baby or shaking your less than bootyliscious bottom a la Beyonce unless you are SURE you can pull it off. Leave that to the instructors and dream on.
After sweating it out on the dance floor, next stop on my Sunday afternoon here in sunny Toronto, was a trip to the Organic Garage in Oakville. Rumour had it that THIS was THE place to go for affordable organic produce and groceries, and although a bit out of my hood, would be worth the drive for all the money I would save. Anything could surely beat the prices at Whole Foods (aka- Whole Pay Cheque) or Planet Organic, so I was pumped. Sadly, it was a pleasant diversion at best. Surely there were a few staples that were slightly lower-priced than what you might pay elsewhere, but in the end not worth the gas money to get there. Bummer. Having said that, the staff were really friendly and the Earthbound Farms lettuce I buy all the time was a buck cheaper and the organic Tree Hugger OJ was as well. The rest was about the same or a tad less or more depending on what it was.
I think the government should give kick-backs on all organic grocery purchases which when you consider the health benefits might help keep so many unhealthy folks from sucking the living daylights out of the government funded health insurance plans in this country. There is some food for thought Harper - stop and smell the toxin-free coffee brewing in the kitchens of health-conscious Canadians Stevie - just sayin.
Same goes for fitness and sports club memberships - reward the efforts, give everyone a chance to get fit and healthy and while you are at it, jump in and break a sweat yourself chief - just a suggestion.
Whew! OK, there we go, a little spewing on a Sunday's eve, good for the soul...aaannndddd, she's BACK.