Turbo Kick

Why I’ll never be an HLB ⁷

When I first started reading blogs, I was drawn to several popular “HLB”s, also known as “Healthy Living Blogs”.

In fact, I still enjoy following several healthy living blogs (Peanut Butter Fingers — holla!!). Essentially, the blogger documents all of their meals and snacks, their physical activity, and the rest of the generally healthy things they do on a daily basis. HLBs are a great place to get ideas for recipes, workouts, as well as reading reviews on cutting edge nutrition and fitness gear.

They also tend to make you feel guilty.

(Or maybe that’s just me.)

Guilty because once in a while, my breakfast looks strikingly similar to this…

Six lemon bars = six servings of fruit..?

From time to time my desk has been known to slightly resemble the photo below…

McRamen

Although if I remember 7th grade algebra correctly, don’t two negatives make a positive? So really, the Egg McMuffin and Spicy Beef Ramen cup cancel each other out and magically create something uber healthy…?

I didn’t think so. (Also, please forgive me for using the word “uber”. I don’t know what came over me.)

In addition to my nutritional discrepancies, from time to time my workouts are a bit…well…lacking. Sure, I teach group exercise classes, but on more days that I care to admit, my “workout” is a little bit of a stretch…

Bowling burns 118 calories an hour.

Too bad there’s at least twice that many calories in the 24-ounce red beer I’m so delicately guzzling.

The one thing I have going for me is that I’m really good about taking photos of my food. HLBs always take photos of every single meal.

Something tells me the above photo montage–despite being incredibly delicious–isn’t exactly helping my case. The only thing that’s actually green is the photo of the parsley garnish on the Top Ramen packet. (And possibly the IKEA meatballs…depending on the lighting.)

*****

A few early readers may remember the “Fitness” section of this blog. I attempted to document my daily workouts and talk about how I had lost twenty pounds through clean eating and a consistent workout routine when we lived in Seattle.

And then I moved to ‘Sota, discovered the grossly underrated delicacy known as tater tots, and gained the weight back. Also? It’s really hard to run outside when the temperature is below freezing.

(The fitness page shortly came down after the move.)

I’m not making fun of healthy living, nor am I encouraging a lifestyle focused on frosting and refined carbohydrates. I take pride in the fact that I exercise several times a week, and eat healthy the majority of the time.

But I also take pride a good can of “sketti”, (that’s redneck for “Spaghetti-O’s”) or a day where I don’t have to get all sweaty at the gym. I figure if I make good choices eighty percent of the time, I still have a little wiggle room for cupcakes and fried pickles. Because truly, a life without fried pickles is practically a prison sentence.

So…while my lifestyle will probably never propel me to HLB status, I’m content being a RLB.

(“Real Living Blogger”.)

(Or “Really Like Butter”. One of the two.)

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Like Elle Woods, only sweatier ⁶

In the land of Turbo Kick, we have a little autumn tradition known to as “TurboWeen”. As I’m sure you can guess by the oh-so-clever title, TurboWeen involves showing up for Turbo Kick in full on Halloween costume.

Chalene Johnson, creator of Turbo Kick, sporting her 2012 TurboWeen ensemble.

Photo courtesy of Chalene’s Instagram @chalenejohnson

As one of Chalene’s Turbo Kicking minions, I felt it was my civic duty to host my own TurboWeen in Smalltown. As I don’t have a Turbo Kick class that falls on Halloween, we decided to celebrate a day early.

Or perhaps more accurately, I decided to celebrate a day early.

The lone Turbo monster. (See also: “what Katrina would look like if she were bald.”)

You can see the full costume here. (FYI — the giant furry legwarmers didin’t make it past the Turbo warmup.)

I announced our TurboWeen celebration a week prior, but failed to produce any fliers, reminders or other marketing materials. Let’s just say I had a very strong feeling I’d be the only one honoring the TurboWeen tradition. In fact, I nearly said “forget it!” and ditched the costume altogether.

But what if one of the participants did dress up, and I left them hanging? The only thing worse than a lone Turbo monster is a lying Turbo hypocrite. Not wanting to embarrass anyone who actually did remember to sport a costume, I begrudgingly slipped into my tutu and headed toward the gym.

Because it wasn’t technically Halloween yet, several people were quite confused by my fashion statement. Aside from an elderly gentlemen who was kind enough to tell me I looked “fancy” as our paths crossed in the parking lot, my monster gown was met with giggles, pointing, and lots and lots of staring. Naturally, I did what any other lone Turbo monster would do — stood up straight, stuck my butt out, and shot everyone a look that said “Why aren’t you wearing a tutu? It’s TurboWeen, after all!” While I think this probably confused people even more, it at least made me feel more secure in my decision to dress like a Purple People Eater with a passion for aerobics.

By the time class started, my fears had been confirmed. I was literally the only person in costume. Luckily, everyone seemed amused (in a good way…I think?) with my getup and no one gave me a hard time. (Still, it would be lying to say there weren’t a few moments where yelling into the mic while air-jacking in brightly colored fur made me feel somewhat vulnerable.) All humiliation aside, we had a great workout, which is truly what TurboWeen is all about in the first place.

Plus, now I can totally empathize with how Elle Woods felt when she showed up to that frat party in the bunny costume. (Aside from the whole Broadway star with really slender thighs part.)

Legally Blonde The Musical – Photo by Eva Rinaldi Celebrity and Live Music Photographer

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Let’s get ridiculous. ¹

I have a theory that a life without ridiculousness is no life at all.

(I’m sure this comes as a huge surprise.)

One of my favorite bloggers, Rachel Wilkerson, has a fabulous post where she lays out the rules of being ridiculous. Any ridiculous person knows that there’s good ridiculous and baaaad ridiculous. Rachael explains the difference between the two quite well, but I’ll give you an example to further illustrate her point.

Dyeing your hair pink, wearing a banana dress, and pretending to be Katy Perry’s twin for the day?

Good ridiculous.

Photo by Modcloth

Getting a large tattoo of Katy Perry’s face on your upper back?

Baaaad ridiculous.

Make sense?

Taking all of this into consideration, I feel like I’ve had an utterly ridiculous week.

In a good way.

Here’s a few of the highlights:

1. I got Disney Princess nails.

They are pink. They are sparkly. They are the nails that every five-year-old girl dreams of.

At 28, I’m probably a little too old for them, but then again, I wasn’t allowed to wear nail polish at the age of five. I’m simply making up for lost childhood dreams, people.

Speaking of age-inappropriate accessorizing…

2. I’ve taken to wearing kickboxing jewelry.

That’s right — kicboxing jewelry.

You know…like, jewelry you kickbox in?

What’s sad is that I picked these up at the Claire’s accessories in Smalltown mall.

What’s even more sad is that wearing them actually makes me punch a million times harder during Turbo Kick.

Speaking of Turbo Kick…

3. I got my hair done to go to the gym.

This was less because I wanted to impress my fellow gym rats and more because it was the only time I could fit it in. Either way, the smooth, silky locks I spent two hours in a chair for were completely demolished in a mere 45 minutes.

My weave is always drenched with sweat after some intense cardio. Once dry, it ends up looking like…well…that.

Scott says it’s because my hair hates me.

I think my hair just hates to work out.

The silver lining to all of this is that I’ve finally realized sweat works just as well as the eighteen dollar sea salt spray I’ve been using. Maybe even just a little bit better. Now I must figure out how to capture my perspiration it in an easy-to-use spray bottle.

Speaking of spray bottles…

4. I’ve invested in leg makeup.

Airbrush leg makeup.

I feel as if this needs no further explanation.

Speaking of flawless thighs…

5. I kind of looked into trying out for the Minnesota Vikings Cheerleading team.

I’m pretty sure the cut-off age is 24, and I’m not too jazzed about the requisite swimsuit pageant…but wouldn’t it be kind of awesome if I was an NFL cheerleader? If only to get my feet in a pair of those delightful boots?

Obviously, I would start a new blog about the experience entitled “Rah! Rah! Push-up Bra!”

Scott walked into our office right in the middle of my…um…research. I tried to close the browser window immediately, but was a split second too late.

He simply rolled his eyes and said “You are not doing that.”

Speaking of Scott rolling his eyes…

6. I may or may not have ordered the aforementioned banana dress.

Photo by Modcloth

The crazy thing is, I’m not even in the market for a banana dress. I simply needed something ridiculous to open this post with and ended up Googling “banana dress” on a whim.

By the time I got to the end of this, I realized that not showing up to my high school reunion wearing a dress covered in bananas would be a cardinal sin. I mean…it just seems so…me.

I mean, aside from the fact that I don’t really enjoy eating bananas all that much.

Jury’s still out on whether I’ll dye my hair pink or not.

It’s like sweaty cotton candy! (Sweaty cotton candy goes well with bananas…right?)

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Confidence versus Delusion ³

“Everyone is staring at you.” Scott murmured as we walked through the parking lot of our gym. A slow grin spread across my face as I started to walk just a little bit taller.

“Not in a good way, Katrina.” he elaborated.

Naturally, he was referring to my choice of outfit.

Dare I say it, this ensemble is OFF THE CHAIN. Or is it the hook? Or heezy?? Does off the heezy sound right? Can someone PLEASE clarify whether it’s a chain, a hook, or a heezy? (And also tell me exactly what a “heezy” is?)

Correct me if I’m wrong, but is this not the type of get-up that one would wear when teaching a hip hop dance class?

Thank you.

Ultimately, Scott failed to see the validity in this argument.

“Katrina…you live in rural Minnesota and teach a ghetto Zumba class. Can’t you just dress normal?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…It is not ghetto Zumba…it is Hip Hop Hustle. And yes, I realize this outfit is a tad bit over the top–but it makes class fun. You know? Dressing like this helps to create a party atmosphere. I’m just having a good time with it.” I hopped into the car, buckled my seatbelt, and tilted my hat to the side with an air of stubborn confidence.

“This is like an America’s Best Dance Crew episode in the middle of a cornfield.” Scott muttered, ” I mean, seriously…that hat is ridiculous. I can’t believe you actually paid money for that thing.”

A) I didn’t pay anything for it — it came in my Camp Do More swag bag. B) It’s not ridiculous…it’s RIDONCULOUS.

“Oh yeah…?” I challenged, “Well someone in class told me it looked exactly like something Justin Bieber would wear.”

“That is exactly why you shouldn’t be wearing it!” he steamed.

I was about to argue that it was exactly the reason I should be wearing it, but realized we were almost to Target. Simply taking if off would drastically improve my odds of scoring a box of my favorite protein bars. Removing the hat, I stepped into the Target parking lot with some serious hat hair, assuring myself The Biebs would forgive me for such a transgression.

“You know Katrina, I like it when you just wear your fitted capri pants with a Lululemon top and one of your headbands. That’s a look you can actually pull off.”

“You know what, Scott? I can pull off any look I want. As long as I wear it with confidence and act like I’m pulling it off, people will believe I’m pulling it off. It’s as simple as that. I get that you aren’t a fan of my workout wear, but it’s what I like and it makes me feel good. Thanks for sharing your opinion, but ultimately, it’s up to me and doesn’t really affect you at all.”

“Oh, it affects me.” he argued while rolling his eyes at the abandoned hat in the foot well, “I’ve been involuntary roped into a love triangle involving an obnoxiously large trucker hat.”

I couldn’t help but giggle.

“You know…a lot of people would kill to be married to a Justin Bieber look-alike.” I suggested.

********

Thirty minutes later, we had nestled into the sofa for a date with the Women’s Olympic Swimming finals. Yes, I was able to score a box of my fancy protein bars, and yes, the trucker hat was back on. While watching the competitors prepare for their race, I noticed something strange about one of the European swimmers.

“Ewww!” I screeched, “She totally has a ton of armpit stubble! You think she would have shaved it, knowing she was going to be broadcast in HD around the world and all.”

Scott simply responded with “I actually like a little bit of armpit stubble.”

This was certainly news to me.

“Seriously?” I asked incredulously. “You like female armpit stubble?”

“Yeah.” he shrugged. “I mean…it shows that she’s comfortable in her own skin. I’m attracted to a woman who is confident enough to do her thing and not care what everyone else thinks.”

“Oh really??” I said, pointing to my trucker hat. “Then why can’t you admire my confidence to wear ghetto fabulous street wear despite the fact that we live in the land of white people who bake casseroles???”

“Katrina,” he explained, “There’s a major difference between being confident, and being delusional.”

I rolled my eyes and reached for a protein bar. Whether he likes to admit it or not, trucker hats are totally the new armpit stubble.