So, the medicine ball crunches clearly weren't something I was interested in trying again. But when the Super-Cute Trainer asked me if I wanted to learn how to box? Oh hells yes.
Super-Cute taught me some basic punches. 1-2-3. Then he was all, "let's put on the gloves" Which is a total process of taping up then someone else has to put the gloves actually on for you, because you can't move your fingers. Also, he thought it was funny to watch me struggle with my water bottle. Not funny, Super-Cute!
There I am, wearing boxing gloves. I have learned exactly three punches. Then, he teaches me to roll away from a punch. Ok, so I've got punching, dodging and weaving down. Go me. Then, he tells me to throw a 1-punch. I do. He says "don't be afraid to punch. Hit it!" Grr! And I whack it. "Good," he says. "Now, one-two." Oooo, a combo. I punch punch. "Good," he says again. "One-three-three-two." I'm bobbing and rolling and punching. Not slapping, but actually punching. At a cute boy. "Good," he says again. "Now, one-two-two-three-three-two-two-one-one-two-three-four"
Er, "one?" We went from simple combos to what seemed like algebra, with a random punch thrown in I hadn't even learned yet. At least I looked the part (this is the day before I cut off all my hair):