Up early this morning, working out in my office, to a newer, kinder DVD series (think Richard Simmons meets Jane Fonda: The Later Years”) that alternates recalcitrant upper and lower body parts each day with a series of floor exercises and cardio. Somehow, I find lifting that barge & totin’ that bale, shimmying & shaking is less intimidating with people you recognize from your youth…with waaay better music (“He’s a Rebel” anyone?)!
So I’m busting my best floor moves, feeling all stretchy and flexible, when they get to lower body wall squats. C’MON, I couldn’t do those in HIGH SCHOOL. What the hell. I’m older and better now, right? Up against the wall, 90-degree sit (okay, fine, 45 degrees. Sigh. Everybody’s a critic…), try to hold it forEVER. 10 seconds, 15 seconds, starting to tremble… 20 seconds, 25 seconds… I’m moaning by now, “Oooh, oooh, OMG, yi yi yi!” when suddenly Kenny’s voice booms out from the bedroom, “I don’t know what you’re doing in there, but you’d BETTER BE ALONE.”
I burst out laughing and toppled over, smacking my head on the ironing board. Game over. I’m thinking pancakes for breakfast?