From "The Lakeside Review," a subsidiary of the "Standard Examiner"
Anyone remember Bo Derek? Good! I've been trying to forget her ever since my husband promised to watch the kids while I went to my aerobic dancing class. Handing him a can of Similac and a pack of Pampers diapers, I grabbed my gym bag and left the house, hoping to return looking just like that iconic star of the movie 10.
My friend Susan followed me through the gym's dressing room door. Sitting on narrow plank benches between rows of pink lockers, we stowed our Mom jeans with our loose-fitting tunics. Then, slipping on spandex leotards and tights, we both began to laugh. Sue laughed at me because I curve in all the wrong places, and I laughed at her, because she doesn't curve at all.
Self consciously, we put our shirts back on and slunk out onto the dance floor to meet our instructor, the drop-dead gorgeous Miss Lindsay.
"She's gotta' be allergic to eating," I said, searching for a word to describe the kind of body proportions no one ever calls thin or skinny.
Just as we "dancers" lined up and dropped to our knees for the preliminary floor exercises, I got a Charlie horse and had to sit out all during the sit-ups.
But I was proud to be back in the line-up for "berry pickers."
"This is easy," I said, my hands flat on the floor.
"You're not supposed to bend your knees," Miss Lindsay demurred.
After that, we were instructed to check our heart rate, but since I couldn't find mine, our mentor showed me how to slide two fingers "along your jawline to the appropriate spot for pulse counting." Only when my knuckles kept getting detoured by my double chin, did I take Susan's advice. "Just pick a number between one and a hundred," she suggested.
Suddenly, the room began to rock with the introductory fanfare of "The Star Wars Strut." Mesmerized, I watched a series of breathtaking moves with names like the "C3PO Side Step" and the "R2D2 Robot Roundoff." Soon I was huffing and puffing like Darth Vader, himself. Beads of sweat soaked my body, while cool, svelte Miss Lindsay floated along looking like an advertisement for "Ice Blue Secret Deodorant."
An hour later, I stood in front of the locker room mirror, assessing the results of my recent workout.
"Well, what do you think? Do I look like Bo Derek?"
Sue chose her words carefully, "I think you need some corn rows in your hair."
