I May Actually Be Dead Right Now

I joined Jazzercise on Sunday with my friend Steph. Let's face it. My rear view has been getting too bootylicious for comfort. I tried on a dress the other day that made me look like I was wearing a bustle!

In my younger years, my mom signed me up for junior Jazzercise, hoping I would lose enough pudge to get out of those 'Pretty Plus' jeans. (It didn't work.) I remember waving my jazz hands around to the Ghostbusters theme song. My mom even bought me the record (yes, record - not CD or mp3) so I could Jazzercise at home.

Let me tell you, Jazzercise has come a long way since the 80s! Gone are the leg warmers, middle-aged women with frosted hair and light rock routines. (Well, the middle-aged ladies are there, but they look normal now.) The music is contemporary and you won't find a frosted hair anywhere! (Does anyone remember the dreadful frosting caps we had to wear before foil highlights became popular? Ouch!)

Getting Schooled By the Grandmas

I'm not going to lie. There are plenty of older women in Jazzercise and they completely kicked my butt! They did high impact moves the entire time without shedding a drop of sweat or mussing a single hair.

On the other hand, I thought I might collapse in the middle of class. My hair was soaked. My shirt was drenched. I was panting like a dog and gulping water like it was going out of style. It's kind of embarrassing. I guess being youngish no longer guarantees that you'll be the most fit in the room.

The good news is it will only get better from here. Judging from my miserable tush, thighs, abs and triceps, I will never be that tortured again because those muscles are getting stronger!