I like to work out. I’m no gym rat but I consider myself in relatively good shape. I have a membership to the local health club and run at least two to three miles everyday. You know, not an olympian but I don’t pass out from climbing stairs. But lately I have become a little complacent with my workouts and really felt the need to change it up. This is a little embaressing to admit because I was a Muscle Physiology major and a personal trainer for many years. I certainly couldn’t turn to some meat-headed trainer that can’t even touch his own ears and was certified with the help of Speak and Spell. No, I need to change to something that will shock the system and have people asking, “Bill, what’s your program, man? You’re ripped!” What could it be…..?
Joan Lunden to the rescue! This is definitly where no man should go but desperate times calls for 1980’s morning anchor measures. But before I can hit muscle failure, pray to the Gods of Physical Fitness for mercy and lose my lunch to the comforting voice of Good Morning America, I need to prepare by getting in the mind set to work out with Joan herself. But really before all that I need a beer. After all, I need to carbo load!
After firing up the VCR and inserting Workout America I am graced by a quick one on one with the queen herself! Joan gets personal with just me about the trials and tribulations of childbirth, stress at work, and the fact that it has been an uphill battle shedding 40 pounds. Even though she has been off the air for years, it’s strange to see her out of the suit and into a lee-a-tard. It’s like seeing your high school teacher in a swimsuit and there is something just creepy about that. But all apparell aside, Joan Lunden was only a focus in my life when there was a chance that school would be cancelled because of snow. My mom always had Good Morning America on before I left for the bus stop but I only paid attention to the scrolling list at the bottom of the screen, looking desperatley for Mt. Bethel on the closed list. If it was, Joan Lunden was the recipiant of kisses and TV hugs. If it was not , she was promptly cursed. It’s not even like shooting the messenger. She just took the blame. Sorry Joan.
It’s go time! The work out starts with the old “walk in place” while Joan, three fit chicks and one fitness expert, Barbara Brandt, start the motivational chat. Barbara reminds me of the typical super mom/ PTA leader/ aerobics instructor/ trophy wife. The type to send your mom a Christmas card, bragging about herself and family while subliminally calling her fat. A real bitch. At least she is good at what she does; making you walk in place, clapping, and being totally oblivious to the fact you that look like a fuckstick. But if clapping and walking will stop the monotony of my workouts then bring it on! I wonder what else she has up her sleeve?
Joan and Barbara have oldie but a goodie up their sleeve. That’s right folks! I’m doing The Charelston with the blinds closed. Hrm….the beer is kicking in so maybe I will open them. I can’t believe it but the pain session is just old dance moves combined with signature pelvic thrusts. It is akward to hear Barbara call the thrusts, ” female muscle thrusts” but it is even more disturbing to hear Joan back her up with a “We know what those are for!”
It’s hard to believe that I am starting to sweat the beer I am drinking but hell, I think this is working! I feel pretty funny dancing like a flapper girl and slapping my thighs but whatever. I like who I am and if Joan Lunden is making me sweat than that is great. I’m going to a wedding in a few weeks and you better believe that these dance moves are in the bag for later. Except for the jerk. I can see me trying to explain that.
“No, no…it’s not gay! I learned it from a Joan Lunden workout tape!”
Well ladies and gentlemen, we’re not used to getting our news from this end. Actually this is a side rarely seen on Good morning America. But I guess it is a testament to the effectiveness of Barbara’s ancient dancing and clap-happy moves. clap-happy
BEAT YOUR FACE LUNDEN! I’M GOING TO TEAR OFF YOUR EARS, PUT THEM IN YOUR BACK POCKETS AND KICK YOU ASS IN SUROUND SOUND! yOUR SOUL BELONGS TO JESUS BUT YOU ASS BELONGS TO ME!
The push up! I can’t believe it but I am doing push ups with Joan to the music of a sony keyboard demo button! What kind of a world am I living in? I really think I am starting to push my luck now that I find myself being coached to squeeze my pelvic muscles while preforming push ups. I hope we move to abs soon. No one likes to feel like a weinie and I am starting to feel like a stay at home mom.
Well, I finished all the excercises like a true champ. I even had to stretch for the final minutes while listening to the ladies go on and on about how great it is to release the stress from their bodies. I must say that I feel much better. Maybe it is the six pack of Sam Adams talking, but I feel fit and firm.
But what the Fuck? This isn’t what I wanted! I can’t have these! Barbara and Joan gave me child bearing hips!
Well that concludes it. I am going to stick to what works. The same old boring thing. I can’t rely on old icons of the eighties to give a new perspective on life. But I did find out one thing. You should never throw out the “fat pants.”
Casserole of Disaster 
