Why I Won't Complain Any More...

...or, at least, why I will TRY not to complain about how I feel while/after working out.

When we lived in Ohio, I started taking a Zumba class.  I really liked it, and it did good things for me.   But when Doctor Husband lost his job, Zumba had to go because I didn't have time for it any more (or money).   Now that we're here, I have an opportunity to get back into it.   I went to my first Zumba class in about ten months today and nearly killed myself.

In my class were a smattering of women of various ages, and one guy.   Bless him -- I wouldn't be able to do that!   But some of the women were easily in their 60's.   There was no way I could act like I was dying when the older lady next to me wasn't doing that bad! 

Then I noticed that one of the older ladies wasn't just in her 60's, but the bandana on her bald head clearly said that she's also recovering from CANCER.   For real?   I would have a hard time getting my body out of bed and overcoming the fear of my daily life if I was dealing with that.  And here's this wonderful, beautiful woman who's not only doing that, but she's going to ZUMBA besides!

And then...THEN...as we were walking out of the class and I was trying not to collapse, this bald woman complimented me on my hair.    How am I supposed to crab and complain about the trivial things that aren't perfect in my life when this woman has such a fantastic outlook with many more serious things wrong in her own?

Sometimes you just need something to make you rethink stuff.