“Let’s get physical…”

I wanted to talk about working out…which can be a sore subject for some. No pun intended!!

I have been recently contemplating working out; I know I should do this at my own risk…and probably take out an insurance policy beforehand.  I really just wish aerobics were like they used to be in the 80’s…where Olivia Newton-John was singing about “getting physical” and we girls would throw on leg warmers and dance in front of our mirrors as we sang into our hair brush… or we could always put on “Flash dance” and get our maniac on.

I’ll admit it…I used to hang with Richard Simmons…and yes I did some sweating to the oldies…but those days are long gone…now I find myself sweating to the oldies, newies and just about anything else…stupid fat will do that to you.

I would do the Superbowl shuffle but I think I would end up pulling a muscle or throwing out my hip or something else important that I would need later on in life.

I need an exercise to get me fit…and one that I don’t have to be a gymnast or a martial artist to do…I am not coordinated at all…I’m the infamous bull in the china shop.

I know what you’re thinking….she can always do yoga…but I must admit I got the beginners DVD on this…I got as far as the tree pose and fell over…and for the record, if a tree falls and no one is around it does make a sound…a very loud crying kinda sound.  I had to fast forward through the rest of it…because I am not a contortionist…or a freaking tree…so that was the end of yoga for me.

I have several DVDs to lose weight to and/or tighten up the wiggly stuff…we won’t say just what wiggles or jiggles…I’ll just keep that to myself for right now. I have ones that make you step in place…which I’ve tried and missed the step many times…thankfully I am short and not far from the ground…and I have a big bouncing caboose to cushion my fall.

Also, the skinny bitch…the one who’s teaching the class is barely breaking a sweat…while I am waiting for oxygen to drop from the ceiling and/or a water boy to come running up and squirt a shot of Gatorade into my mouth…and just because I pressed play on the remote.

It’s not like Weight Watchers where everyone is sitting in a group saying help I am addicted to donuts…this is serious…I need some zing in my zag…some spring in my step and less jiggle in my wiggle.

Perhaps I could sue my parents for this because I am quite sure it’s their fault…that I am midget…and they probably sold my coordination and height on Ebay to make a quick buck...knowing those crazy freaks. 

I guess I could do it redneck style...and just duct tape my fat down…like some of those drag queens do with their bat and balls. This is a quick fix and is easily done…and don’t act like I’m the only one who has ever done this…hey it’s a lot cheaper than surgery.

What’s a chucky midget to do…maybe I should take up thumb wrestling…or maybe see about picking up one of those machines that just shakes the fat off of you like in the good old days.

Well I’m going to take my tube socks and cut out the feet to make some leg warmers…and throw on some Irene Cara (What a Feeling) and shake it...while trying not to break it…or scare the neighbors.

Miss 7D