The Best Medicine
I have just got to grow up and get over myself.
But until I do...
I'm currently working on losing about 40 pounds. This is apparently going to be quite a little project. In typical Jenny fashion, I've started out with the best of intentions, and lots of enthusiasm. I'm really watching the food going into my face, and have stepped up the exercising so that I'm actually sore. This is making me less enthusiastic, but whatevah. I'm doing it, ah-ight?
So, in my quest to 'feel the burn' I decided to turn on my long languishing DVD of the New York City Ballet workout. I bribed my son to play in the other room on the computer, put the baby down for a nap and fired up the TV.
So many things were funny about me trying to follow along. Watching these dancers with long, lithe bodies move gracefully across my television, I felt like my own motions were akin to the antics of a chimpanzee.
I did plies
I did releves
I did tendu after tendu
I even did fancy little combos involving swishing arms and pointing toes.
And then I got to the jumping part. Bah! Hahahaha! Oh, no no no, cherie. The dancers moved gracefully into second position, sank into a plie and shot themselves into the air, over and over. If I actually got air, it was on accident. I was deafened by the sound of my thudding feet hitting the floor, and was treated to my son's alarmed face poking around the corner.
I ended up bent over, clutching my stomach, gasping for breath, because I was laughing myself silly. I couldn't make it to the end of the jumping section, but I figure I got enough of a workout with the belly laughing.
The fun is totally going to continue tomorrow, because I just got myself a copy of Tae-Bo, and I'm going to be kicking some pretend ass and probably peeing my pants laughing about it.
Must be the endorphins.