Weight: 242 (Damn you, CiCi's pizza buffet!) (Oh, I can't stay mad at you, CiCi's pizza buffet. Let's never fight again)
In an attempt to increase the amount of physical activity I get during the week, I've decided to step out of my comfort zone and try things I've never tried/purposefully avoided before. So, this morning I sprang out of bed around 7:45 with a smile on my face and a plan in my brain. The plan: I'm gonna dance off these inches. The method: Dance Off the Inches: Fat Burning Jam with Michelle Dozois.
You may be overjoyed to learn--or possibly not--that Netflix offers a limited selection of on- demand work out videos for subscribers to enjoy, most of them being some variation on dance aerobics. I add a few to my Instant Queue yesterday in preparation. Fat Burning Jam was the obvious choice for my first dance aerobics video experience. I mean, c'mon, a jam? I love jams! Jams are totally fun. And this was a jam that burned fat. What more could you ask for? Read this description and tell me you don't instantly pop a work out boner:
Funk fest? Fanny-shaking flab busting? Who am I to resist such promises? I'm not made of granite!
I am though mostly comprised of the aforementioned flab, so the idea of busting said flab with help from an aerobics champion and ten easy dance moves appealed to me greatly. And, hey, I like to dance. I don't do it well, but I like to do it.
The work out itself is only 36 minutes, but, man, does Dozois fill it to the brim with dance moves. And she doesn't take her time either. Dozois presents a move, she and her yoga-panted friends show you how to do it, and then you better keep up, because, seriously, they are going to leave you in the dust. I can say that I did, in fact, keep moving for 36 straight minutes, but I'm not going to lie and say I perfected each dance move. I mastered the "party march," "kick-ball-step" and the "side-to-side lunge," but I could never quite get the hang of the "box step w/ jazz hands" and I stopped trying after they added a spin.
This isn't to say Dozois is a bad teacher. I blame myself. I hate to lean on old timey sexism, but I'm a man, and a straight one at that. I can't swivel my hips. It's not because I don't want to. I physically cannot. I would love to possess the ability to move fluidly, sexily across a dance floor, like some kind of panty-moistening Latin lover you (not me!) read about in trashy romance novels or see dragging "celebrities" around on TV. I just can't! I've tried. I've never been able to dance. Scratch that: I can dance, in as far as I can jerk my body around semi-rhythmically to a handful of songs, but I can't, like, do any real dances like those aforementioned "celebrities" can. I can't even do something as simple as the box stop Dozois so eagerly and expertly demonstrated.
I couldn't keep up and I am incapable of performing even a single convincing hip swivel, but I sweated a lot and my legs are killing me, so I guess I did something right. Michelle Dozois and her MILFy pals got me started on a road to healthy living and for that I salute them and their yoga pants.
(In the spirit of honesty I should reveal that I did have to take a break from the fat burning jam to shoo my cat, as halfway through my work out he decided stretching out on the floor in front of the TV was a good idea. Lazy cuss.)
