Boys' Night Out

We were visiting my in-laws, C & S, today, a little H. family get together for upcoming Mother’s Day. The boys had decided to extend the evening by going to a movie. No, they weren’t being chauvinist pigs. Worse. They were going to a movie that none of the female set had the remotest interest in seeing—a documentary. As Auntie C. is trying to find child-friendly entertainment in their DVD collection (I have no idea why it didn’t just occur to me to put Vaughn to bed somewhere, since he was having entirely too much fun in their massage chair), she says, “Who’s Leslie Sansone? What’s a walk workout? How do you walk in your home?” Now, I could has said something smart like—“First you raise one foot and then put it down, and then…”--but uncharacteristically, I kept my mouth shut as I listened to her then go on to mock those that stand in front of their TV walking in place. (I still wonder why she had a workout DVD she was completely unacquainted with and had obviously never used. I suspect her husband was secretly rendezvousing with Leslie Sansone without C.’s knowledge.)

The thing is, I knew who she was talking about because I owned several of those DVDs. I held a brief frenetic conversation in my head as to whether I should divulge my little secret, but sleep deprivation won out, and I blurted, “I have several of her DVDs. It’s actually quite a good workout.” She’s staring at me, gape mouthed, like she can’t believe how she’s overestimated my intelligence all these years. “I mean…you don’t just walk. You do other stuff…” and then I lamely mumble other inanities, as her eyes are narrowing and naked skepticism is plastered all over her face. Of course, this didn’t stop my rambling.

Earlier in the day, we’d gone for pedicures, but my foot massage had to be limited to one foot because a month ago I had seriously strained my ankle and it was still tender to the touch. I now confessed that this had happened during a Leslie Sansone session. Now she’s looking at me like surely I am sh**ting her and thinking there is absolutely no possible way one can trip and strain their ankle while walking in place in front of their TV, so I proceeded to demonstrate. By the time I was done, my sister-in-law and niece were looking at me like I had just dropped several IQ points in their estimation of me.

My niece, God bless her, then asked, “Hey, have you seen that show on TV where the old lady is sitting in the chair exercising? I think it’s call ‘Sit and Fit,’” probably thinking this was just right up my alley.

I know I am dangerously teetering on the edge of dotage when I’m working out with Leslie, but I can’t help it. I actually like her DVDs. I don’t have to stare at a bunch of buff 17-year-olds, and many of her “friends” are rather plump, which makes me feel positively young and svelte whenever I play them. Besides, it’s an easy, lazy workout.

Leslie can be a bit too chipper for my tastes and only slightly less annoying than Denise Austin, but Denise is creepily cheery, in a Stepford fitness instructor kind of way. Denise Austin says you can workout anywhere, even doing butt squeezes in your car while you’re sitting in traffic. That to me is just too much effort; however, I do confess to the occasional Kegel workout in the grocery line, though it makes me feel a touch naughty. ;-)