A Chubster's Guide to Pure Barre

I have something in common with 33.1% of my fellow countrymen - I am considered "overweight," ugh. I can still comfortably fit into a single airplane seat, which is kind of my metric for how serious my body situation is. I can still shop at all the normal stores. But my weight and my height are not in line, and I'm what you would call a chubster.

I did successfully complete boot camp at one point in my life, I did work on a flight deck without dying, and not to brag or anything, but I can carry like all my grocery bags inside in one trip, so my chub stores don't necessarily correlate with my strength. I also have no major medical problems, thank God, I'm just jiggly.

You already know that I suffer from depression, so keeping active is absolutely essential to managing my symptoms. Lately I've had wicked insomnia, which is usually my most glaring indicator that I need to - pardon my French - get off my ass. I've been curious about Pure Barre for a while but was deterred because everyone I've ever seen in their ads was a 22-year-old, 90-pound, cheerleader and every single one looked like the type who'd end up being an officer's wife. You know the type. Lululemon from head to toe, 2+ carat engagement rings, perfect highlights in their hair, Lexus SUV's, you get it. Those girls. I am not even on the same planet as those girls, and thought for sure that as soon as I walked into a Pure Barre studio, a hush would come over the perfectly-manicured crowd as they witnessed a manatee entering their territory.

Of course this is the fantasy I had concocted in my mind, and that's what kept me from trying these classes out, despite the repeated assertions that it was, in fact, an outstanding workout. I can't stand gyms, and I'm way too apathetic to join the CrossFit throngs. Finally, I looked in the mirror and basically this is what I saw looking back at me:

Still cute though

And that was it. I knew I couldn't just wish away the pudge and the sloth, so in a burst of 0300 inspiration, I signed up for their free intro class. I literally had nothing to lose. If I walked in and everyone was snotty, well, I'd walk right back out, wouldn't I? If I hated the workout, I never had to go back. Fine. If all else failed, the studio is right by Starbucks, and you can get me to do just about anything by promising me either coffee or lunch. So last Friday, I did it. I went.

I walked into the studio and met the owner and my instructor for that day's class. Both were like, zero percent body fat, as was expected, but were genuinely kind and welcoming. Okay, off to a good start. My instructor showed me around the studio and gave me the general rundown of how things work (you walk into the studio, and she'll have whatever provided equipment you'll be using for that particular class set up at the front, so you know what to grab). She taught me what their little lingo all means so I know what to do when class is going down. Tuck. Tuck. Tuck. Pulse. Okay lady. Got it.

Shortly after, three other women showed up for that class, so there were four of us plus the instructor. Which was fine by me because if I'm going to be flopping around like an uncoordinated asshole, the fewer people in my audience, the better. All the women were, again, around 95 pounds. I honestly think the total weight of the engagement rings was higher than the weight of some of these people. But most of them were really, really kind, and I was surprised what a pleasant environment was created by the little community.

So the class started. Everyone said that the 15-minute warm up was the biggest pain in the ass of the entire class. Okay, I can deal with that. But I think calling it a "warm up" is a little misleading. You think "warm up" and you think some stretches or whatever, right? Something to ease you in. But it's basically just you starting your workout properly. You get your heart rate up by doing some leg lifts and things like that, and then after about fifteen minutes, the instructor called us to the barre which is where the real beatings began. Okay, listen, I know I'm not really a wimp, and I know that I can be weirdly strong. I am pretty sure under all this chub is like, someone who looks like this. I am wrong. That barre beat my ass worse than Chief did in boot camp. That barre beat my ass worse than all my RDC's combined that one time a dude in my division snuck some peanut butter out of the galley. But, weirdly, this doesn't make me hate or fear the barre - it makes me love the barre, because let's face it, I have an ass that needed to be beat (and not in a Fifty Shades kind of way). I love the barre. I can't wait to face off to that bitch again tomorrow.

My 55-minute workout ends and I'm surprisingly "meh" about the whole thing. People have said that they felt INSTANTLY HOOKED when they did it, but I wasn't feeling that way. I liked it because I was never out of breath (because, not sorry, I like breathing), and because everything felt within my ability. Even when I couldn't do something, the instructor was really cool about correcting me, and no one was judgey if I had to stop before the end of the count. No one cared that I was obviously the chubbiest chubster in the room, and no one scoffed at me for not being able to bring my ankle up to my ear (I'm not joking, this part is a standard feature of the class, so buckle up). Even though every single one of my sweaty, uncoordinated movements was reflected back at everyone via the walls covered in mirrors, I didn't feel like an asshole, and I felt like it was okay that I was there just trying my best.

I had decided before my class that if I even slightly liked it, I was going to sign up for their one month new client membership thing that's $100 for a month of unlimited classes. Oh, yeah, barre is dumb expensive. DUMB expensive, but so is heart disease, sooooo. I signed up for my month, went home, showered off the sweat, and was sore in places I didn't know I had muscles, for two days. Loved it.

The thing I really like about this workout method in particular is that, like I said before, I can breathe the entire time, and I'm never prickly hot and miserable like I am whenever I run or do anything ridiculous like that. The movements are completely doable, even if you can't do them for the full amount of time. If you can do a squat, you can do barre. Also, maybe my favorite part, is that you can go online and sign up for classes. You don't ever have to take a chance that you're going to show up and have the class filled up, and being signed up for a class days in advance gives you an accountability to yourself that is really important when you're making a change like this.

NOTA BENE: If you decide to go to a barre class, you don't have to bring anything with you. They provide all the equipment you need. However, it is my highest recommendation that you wear sticky socks. I kind of thought they were full of it when they recommended you wear them, so for today's class, I wore normal socks. Do a plank on a slippery surface. You'll hate your life. Wear grip socks. Just trust me and shut up.

I genuinely don't know what changes are in store for my soft little body after killing it in class every day. But I'm two classes in now, and I feel awesome, and I am starting to wake up that little bad bitch that lives inside me, so I'm happy.

Let me know if there's anything you're wondering about!