Apologies, Jazzercise


I am writing now to send a formal apology through the Universe to a certain group of plucky women who worked the parade circuit many a year ago, proudly stepping high, wearing tight pants, structured tennis shoes, and t-shirts emblazoned with the word “Jazzercise”. In my Princess garb, tiara as high as the sky and poufy dress, I could not imagine walking down the parade route in such silly get-up. They step-ball-changed down the parade route and I smiled serenely while waving and thinking, “I will never be one of those women.”

I must now, chagrined, revoke that stupid inside thought. You see, I have just experienced a life-changing workout. Last night I attended my first-ever Jazzercise class. It was ridiculous of me to think I would not enjoy Jazzercise—the workout is EVERYTHING that I enjoy all rolled up in one.

I got to step-ball-change, chasse, kick, lift and shake my bootay. I sweated profusely. I laughed, I sang along to the silly pop songs, and I had the most fun I have ever had exercising.

Next week I will be traveling for my job [which, by the way, I am absolutely loving] but the following week I intend to be back.

I now have a new life dream.

To be a motorcycle riding, singing actor playwright bartending barista higher-education worker, publishing flute playing dynamo.

Sincerely,

Emilie

 

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