Sometime in the year 2011, nearly two years after my failed attempt at Zumba, I woke up to the gross realities of weight gain. The patellas in my knees hurt, so I dreaded stairs. I looked like a sack of potatoes, so I dreaded mirrors. I imagined only large people as warm and friendly and so I dreaded everyone else. I only wore European and American brands because I didn’t fit into the Asian extra large anymore.
I signed up with a personal coach who took me on this amazing, life changing experience (I cannot thank you enough Sonam Mehra)to become a fitter me. I blogged about my journey to a fitter me like a woman possessed. I was walking 6kms on an average everyday (with my Goldie Maxx), weight training twice a week. I had also embraced the practice of Yoga and eating smarter.
In the middle of 2015, I relocated back to Chennai. By then, being fit had become a way of life. I signed up for an ashtanga yoga class near where I stayed temporarily, walked to where ever I had to go and used Pareto’s principle when making food choices. Until Maxx relocated three months later and we moved into our new home, I was in control of my life. Or so I thought.
My Ashtanga practice came to a complete stop, soon after. My yoga class was 5kms away and clashed with the time I had to walk Maxx, the interior works of the house was incomplete and I had that to monitor closely, the incredible December deluge saw me busy with relief operations. These collectively knocked the wind out of my sails and by the time I surfaced, it was January 2016 and time to make new resolutions.
The new condominium had spacious green lawns and a club house that had a fully equipped gym, a yoga room and the works. When the management committee announced that they would be introducing group classes exclusively for the residents of the complex, imagine how my heart danced when I saw, prominently displayed at the end of the list, a Zumba class.
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