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Gym Class Flashback

gymclassThere are few things I can recall being worse at than anything to do with High School gym class. I mean, the shorts alone were enough to make me weep, not to mention the knee-socks.

To say I’m not athletic is to say that Harper Lee is a mediocre writer. In other words, I sucked at gym. Other than basketball, and hitting a baseball, I dreaded that class more than anything, and was so thankful that the high-school-credit-gods decided that one was enough.

During gymnastics class I once did a vault and actually knocked my spotter unconscious with my right thigh. The same girl was victim to a line drive when she was pitching to me, which once again rendered her without response. When she offered to stand up in my wedding, I should have known the marriage was doomed.

Tonight, after a two-week hiatus, I took my chubby little buns off to the gym right after work and hit the cardio class. I hate this class. There is no joyful flailing of flab like Zumba or Urban Rhythms. It’s all very practical and ham-string agonizing.

My first clue that something was up should have been the lack of participants in the room. You see, this gym is busy enough that you have to be banded to attend class. It should have been full, but it wasn’t, and then I saw her. A woman who surely was the doppelganger of my High School gym teacher. The one that generations of students and their parents had nicknamed, “Spade-Face”.

Spade-Face inspired fear in the hearts of all girls with breasts. She was like a drill sergeant in purple and gold (our proud school colours) sweats, whistle and baritone bark included. Just looking at her made me pee my pants a little bit.

So, tonight in my mind, it was “Spade-Face” whom I was at the mercy of, with my middle-aged porcelain white thighs and tailored to fit sports bra.  It was a terrible class. She lost count, screwed up, and had the personality of a torn  gusset from a totally used up pair of panties.

But I made it through, without too much gasping or excessive sweating. I actually felt good when I walked out of that studio.

Spandex – the great fashion equalizer. I may wear a suit all day, and provide ‘expertise’, but when we get to the gym, it’s just my glutes and yours darling, and yours win hands-down.

As it turns out, I really wasn’t that bad when it came to athletics. Nope, like most young ladies who were abused, I just had incredibly low self-esteem, and would rather have worn a moo-moo over my svelte 16-year-old body than have anyone see skin.

Years passed, and I shed the skin of victimhood, to find out that I wasn’t such an athletic anomaly as I thought I was. I loved going to the gym, played squash, and even started running when I was in my mid-thirties. I even have a ‘sports’ injury incurred from competitive paddling. Go figure.

So, with this in mind, I have set some new goals for myself after a bit of a lazy go at living. Wish me luck, and I wish you luck too. This getting older may be harder on the ego and bones, but it does wonders for the spirit when we put it all into perspective.

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The Music Of Your Life

Scene from a high school dance in Tallahassee,...
Scene from a high school dance in Tallahassee, Florida (Photo credit: State Library and Archives of Florida)

Few things can take me back to a moment in time like music.

I know which song was playing on the radio when I had my first car accident way back when I was a teenager.

I remember “We Are Family” blaring out my speakers as I made a badly timed left-hand turn into a ‘family’ vehicle full of brothers. To this very day I hate that song.

I remember rocking my infant, colicky child listening to She Bangs, with tears in my eyes, thinking to myself, that the Grand-She would never bang again.

Of course there are songs that make us remember the ‘true love’s’ that have come and gone from our lives.

I remember coming in from my very first kiss. My teenage self settled into a long bath set to the dulcet tones of Meatloaf’s, You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth, and I continued to dream about when that lovely sensation of a kiss with the boy of my dreams, and when it might happen again.

The very first song a boy dedicated to me on the radio, and dubbed as “our song” was Bob Marley’s  Stir It Up.  And stir it up we did my darlings. Over and over and over. Shameless isn’t it? I’ll admit, if I could go back  and do it again, I’d spend way, way, way more time skipping class and making love in every somewhat private nook and cranny we could find. Le sigh.…those were the days.

Then there was the tragic rebound relationships spent with a lovely young man. Appropriately enough, he chose Lost Together as our song. How telling, how ominous, how wonderful to double as our inevitable break-up song as well? Irony is the tragic tale of the romantic at heart my darlings..

Somewhere in there were ‘our songs’ with various and sundry other true-love-wanna-be’s; Sinead O’Connor’s Nothing Compares to You, The Human League’s originally titled, Human,  (two very poor choices for love songs by the way). Of course, growing up in the 90’s, every girl had a boyfriend choose Bryan Adams’ Everything I Do to slow-dance and smooch too.

Don’t you think there should be way more slow-dancing and smooching during our  adult years? Wouldn’t it make the days pass with more tantalizing anticipation, and night fly by on the wings of passionate love making? Yes, yes it would. Note to self; talk to my man about making this happen…

Let’s not forget the boys who liked country; Keeper of The Stars, Chances Are ( A Personal Favourite of Mine) and If Tomorrow Never Comes.

I offer up a selection of my musical memories from around the world;’

The Englishman; China Girl (Don’t ask, there’s only so much peeking into my intimate moments)

The Northern South American: Suavemente

The More Southerly of the South Americans: Words Don’t Come Easy (This One’s for you Teri Old Gal!)

The Kiwi: She Doesn’t Dance

The West Coast Guy: Moondance

The Older  Italian: Take a Chance on Me

The Viking: Saltwater Man & Blue Sky girl or Patricia The Stripper

The Other Older Italian: Night Time is the Right Time

My Adult Crush: These Foolish Things

The Young Hottie: Beside You

The Frenchman: Kiss and Say Good-Bye

The Younger Hottie: Leave Your Hat On

My Sexual Mentor:  Ain’t No Cure For Love

Now, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all swooning, candlelight and love songs my sweet little lovelies. There was plenty of heartache, and even more laughter.

My wish is that tonight you sip something warm, slip into something slinky and reenact some of your musically inspired fantasies with your wonderful, much-deserving men.


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Remember the Prom?

A typical gathering, with boys in tuxedos, and...
A typical gathering, with boys in tuxedos, and girls in dresses with corsages on their wrists. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today I was listening to one of my favourite radio programs on my long, construction-jammed drive to work, and they were playing songs from the movie 16 Candles. It got me thinking about all the wonderful emotions we leave behind as our youthful innocence slips away.

Do you remember…

1) Slow dancing at high school dances.

2) How you felt the split second before a first kiss

3) Doing your best friend’s hair before a double date

4) Staying up all night whispering into the phone

5) Being asked to Prom.

6) Dreaming about who you’d be at 20, 30 and 40

7) Trying new eye make-up

8) Reading a love note from your high school sweetheart

9) Your first pair of high heels

10) Believing you could have it all