Last night, Laura and I, in the spirit of emjoying public humiliation, went to kickboxing lessons.

My first revulsion to this whole scheme was the fact our instructor looked like a old boyfriend, who I am paticularly annoyed with at the present moment, but this, like other boyfriend annoyances, will soon fade I am quite sure.

Laura and I, were at best, pathetic. Since we were both so amazingly unathletic, uncoordinated, and I am bordering on DYSLEXIC because I cannot even MIRROR people, the instructor wisely paired us together.

Only problem being we were cracking hilarious comments and trying very hard to concentrate and beat each other. The situation was compounded by the fact our instructor has a crush on Laura, so he would NOT LEAVE US THE BLOODY HELL ALONE. Laura, who was actually catching on quite nicely, was recieving all the attention. Sarah, who was on the verge of tears and whose punches closely resembled the flailings of a newborn, was ignored and forgotten.




Mental Note: To improve myself kickboxing skills, must get a snazzy velour pants like Laura's.