So I went to Jazzercise on Friday, you know at the Roller Rink Palladium with overweight, middle-aged woman who love to dance and my two best gay friends who, of course, love to dance and dress up in spandex. I think they think that every time we go there it’s a Richard Simmons workout video because they insist on only wearing spandex onesies. I usually go there on the weekends to get a little cardio going before a major night out, like have you ever thought of all the calories you consume on just one Friday night in alcoholic beverages alone, not to mention the after party munchies? A shit load and I don't have time to wait for the morning runs nor can I afford another ten more pounds on my ass, thank you. Anyway, back to Jazzercise it’s just a really accepting environment, where I know I won’t be judged on how good I am or how flexible I am (fucking pretentious yogalatites). Ageism and Fatism doesn’t exist in the realm of Jazzercise, boobs are flopping, asses are gigglin’ and those cottage cheese thighs have never given so many high fives. It’s a pretty sacred place where everyone has that unspoken bond of trust and respect for one another. Like I’ve been to a lot of chastity groups and they could care less about friendship because all they really care about is preserving their image, which is already tainted by their undying love for the Jonas Brothers and Josh Grobin. I feel for the women who wake up every morning and come to class, being able to wake up on a weekend at 8am to dance your heart out while your husband’s lazy ass is still in bed. (so much resentment) Men can eat five cheese burgers in a day and still stay skinny. Like today “I feel like such a heifer. I had two bowls of Special K, 3 pieces of turkey bacon, a handful of popcorn, 5 peanut butter M&M's and like 3 pieces of licorice.” And I feel like ralphing. One and two and three and four come everybody and move and back, front, back and side to side. Gotta work off all the feelings you ate last night. Y
-Madelyn Somers
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