FASHION Magazine

So you think you can tone? Dance is becoming the hottest new way to work it out. FASHION checks out the top classes across Canada.

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Part four in a four-week series on beauty editor Lesa Hannah’s experience at Best Body Bootcamp (bestbodybootcamp.com).

Monday: Never before has the desire to sleep in been stronger than it is this morning. It must be the result of my True Blood hangover. I consider bailing for a moment, but then fight through my sloth and go. To work our lower bodies, we do duck walks—squatting while taking 10 steps forward and then back. Reps of side lunges and squatting while jumping are broken up with jog-sprint-walk laps around the park and bursts of suicide laps. I imagine that my belly is being blasted of excess as I muster all my energy to tear through the grass. At the office, I flip the bird to the now-broken-for-a-month-elevator as I head for the stairs.

Yoga fashion is a bit of an oxymoron. It seems so ridiculous to be concerned about outer appearance while working on inner change and enlightenment, doesn’t it?  Classes are meant to be serene pools of space and time where students can relax into the present, but this is easier said than done when your pants are riding where the sun don’t shine during a salutation.

Part three in a four-week series on beauty editor Lesa Hannah’s experience at Best Body Bootcamp (bestbodybootcamp.com).

Monday: I was really hoping that waking up would be easier by now, but not so. Dragging my ass from the warm, delicious comfort of my bed requires the same amount of willpower as it did in week one. For legs we’re made to do jumping jacks, variations of squats that include some form of jump, burpies and a one-legged raised knee kick that has such a martial arts feel to it, I quietly chant a Karate Kid command to myself for fun. Then have a moment of silence for Mr. Miyagi. We’ve barely recovered when we’re made to run a lap around the park. Then we do it all again. THREE MORE TIMES. After each round I collapse into a heap on my mat. I don’t recall ever feeling this spent before. Oh, and one more thing: Why do I still feel fat?

Part two in a four-week series on beauty editor Lesa Hannah’s experience at Best Body Bootcamp (bestbodybootcamp.com).

Monday: Does my belly look like it’s protruding less or am I imagining it? Sadly, I am hallucinating because my pants still dig into the soft flesh that is my pot. On this fine morning, my legs are seriously getting taken to task with a series of lunges, side skates, squats, jumping jacks and calf raises. I expect to be fully sore the next day or thereafter and…nothing? What gives? Don’t even try to tell me I’m not working hard enough.

The new recruit
Forget thighs or butt—post-30, my battle is with my paunch. I’m like an old man—every ounce of excess immediately heads there to squat. I know I can beat it—two years ago, I totally kicked its ass. Then I had a baby. Amazingly, the calories I expended from breastfeeding (500 a day—yes!) got me down to a size that was slimmer than my pre-pregnancy shape. But when I returned to work and weaned my daughter, that blissful burn waned. Oh, and I’ve never really met a chocolate chip cookie I didn’t like. Welcome back, belly.

Now that I have a toddler, the only choice I have is to work out at lunch. And while I’ve been successful in getting there a few times a week, I feel like my efforts are in vain. You know those articles aimed at moms that say even picking up toys or doing housework counts?  It doesn’t. At least not enough. So when our health editor, Rani Sheen, mentioned how after a friend of hers signed up for Best Body Bootcamp (bestbodybootcamp.com), which offers sessions across Toronto, she had increased energy and her ass started to lift, I was ready to sign on the dotted line. Best Body Bootcamp, I’m ready for you to help me get mine….

I admit it: I have sat safely on my couch and sniggered at the poor out-of-breath dieters on The Last 10 Pounds Boot Camp and Bulging Brides. Recently, I got my comeuppance. No, I didn’t slip and fall on my way to the fridge during the commercial— I attended a boot camp with Tommy Europe, the same man putting those reality TV ladies through their paces. Granted, mine only lasted one hour, rather than weeks edited into an hour, but my hour had no commercial breaks to catch your breath and hit the snack cupboard.