However, hopefully I have never looked quite this dorky.
So imagine my disappointment last year when I discovered that the Student Rec Center, which offers classes for a small extra fee, did not offer step. Apparently, this new Generation Y (who, in my opinion, sucks royally, as I have already discussed in my "fashion faux pas" segments) for whatever reason, believes it is cooler to kickbox and do yoga than to step.
OK, whatever. First of all, I do love yoga, and I see the merits in doing it a couple times a week. But kickboxing, kickboxing? God, I hate it! Hate it, I tell you. It's aggressive, annoying, and I can't kick higher than my own knee cap so I find it particularly detestable because I stink at it. Apparently, however, "step" is not cool enough for this trendy, over-indulged, hooked-into-their-IPods-24/7, attention-deficit portion of our population.
This is the lameness I'm talking about.
So -- now that I have vented out my frustration for the world to read... I must tell you about my experience last week at "free class" night...
Well, I looked at the class offerings, and a little something called "Wild Cat Dolls" caught my eye.
I'd seen advertisements for it...
And darn, if that didn't look like fun! And totally crazy!
So I read about it a little more closely (click on the picture if you need to see the font better)...
Unleash my inner doll? Act flirty? No guys allowed?
OMG. Awe.some.
Or not. After determining in 2.2 seconds that I would never in a million years be a "Wildcat Doll," I chose a class slightly less "you go girl!!". This class was called "jazz pizzazz." It wasn't step, mind you, but at least it appeared to involve rhythmic music and some sort of floor routine, which I hoped might involve sequences similar to step aerobics. And most importantly, it didn't involve acting like a ho in any way, shape, or form. The class started at 5:30pm, and I got there around 5:20 ready to go... along with about 100 other girls. And when I say "girls," I really mean "girls" -- like the maximum age was about 22.
Imagine me standing there in my unimaginative grey ribbed tank top, blue running shorts from Target, uncombed hair sticking eight directions, glasses, make-up-less face, and Saucony running shoes. Now picture me standing amongst a cluster of blonde bombshell college co-eds wearing bouncy ponytails, full-on make-up, coordinating leotards and off-the-shoulder sorority t-shirts, and tight stretch yoga pants.
To sum it up, I felt like Brunhilde...
A real life collection of Brunhildes.
To be honest, I was trying to figure out how all of these women were going to fit in one exercise room and then have space to perform any type of "jazz pizzazz" activities. Indeed, this was a problem the instructor appeared to struggle with as well. As there was no room to do a "regular" floor routine, she had us line up in about 8 rows of 15 women. She demonstrated a dance move across the floor (such as kick right, kick left, sashay, mambo, cross kick and finish), then she asked us to go across the room doing the dance moves with our row. Unfortunately, this meant every other girl in the room stood and watched as each row did the moves.
Let's make one thing clear... I'm not really a very graceful dancer (slightly athletic, perhaps... elegant, no), and I didn't go there intending to engage in an open audition for a "Chorus Line." My two attempted sashays and mambo leaps across the classroom floor confirmed in my mind (and to the rest of the room) that I was the oldest, gawkiest, and least flexible jazz dancer in a two-mile radius. To sum it up, I was a disaster. I had to make a graceful exit... and fast.
Luckily, I was able to slip out without much fanfare and head downstairs to the comfort of the elliptical machine. In the process, I received a gift bag for my participation (full of energy bars and foot powder) and an attempt by staff to sign me up for a future (paid) class.
Needless to say that didn't happen. So much for "Jazz Pizzazz" (and "Wildcat Dolls")... I guess I'm stuck with the elliptical!
4 comments:
ok, Kit, that sounds like you just lived every woman's* worst nightmare. (way to take one for the team!) also, i think the name was misleading. "Jazz Pizazz" sounds way more like a class my grandma takes at her gym (it's probably a warm up to "water aerobics" there).
* not girl
Indeed... "Jazz Pizazz" seemed so innocent. You know, just doing a few low-key grapevines with "jazz hands" and such. However, I felt like I was on the NBC audition for Sandy in "Grease" with half the female student population watching. Horror... horror!!
I was waiting for the Wildcat Dolls story! Oh well, forget the hags - you're a woman of substance!
Hey, hey, not all of us are horrible. Everyone who takes classes like that is though. Honestly. You could come do pilates with me and watch me almost cry every time because of my f'ed up back and total lack of muscle strength in my abs! In short, you're 11 years older than me and in much better shape so stop whining. ;) You know I am teasing, not actually annoyed.
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