Monday, 26 September 2011

Boxercise, Schmoxercise

When my flatmate and I heard about a local boxercise class, images of bodies like Rosie Huttington- Whitely sprung to our minds promptly leading us to book in for the soonest class. After turning up 10 minutes late to lots of agro from the (arsey)trainer we joined everyone else in a punishing hour of, well, punching….and more punching…finished off with just a couple more punches
My body was crying 'FUCK' for the entire time.
What was once a wonderful idea soon became something else; to cut it short lets just say we aren’t feeling that wonderful movable by the end. I had to MAKE my friends buy me cake just so that I could function in an orderly manner because I can't actually PHYSICALLY move my arms. I now understand why Amir Khan has SUCH a great body. Punches = a Wolverine-esque appearance/Miranda Kerr bod.
Saying this, it is doubtful that i will be going back. Even though there is something rather calming about the whole ordeal, you know, the feeling that of punching your partner with the pads on, imagining it is an ex-boyfriend you would quite happily beat the crap out of given the chance.... I value 'moving', something i just haven't been able to do...for about 3 days now. 

Must dash, I hear my name being called...'Miranda Kerr!' 'Miranda Kerr'.... ish.  

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