I haven't been to Pilates class lately, because Pilates demands discipline and time and energy and the ability to care. I had a lovely nap this afternoon, however.
Perhaps I need Dale. Dale taught the kickboxing class that Julie the NephewsMama and I attended when I lived in Cincinnati, and it bonded us immensely, as sisters, because when Dale enters the picture, you only have each other for safety and comfort.
Dale would simply materialize in the gym; no one ever saw him outside of the context of the aerobics floor, he just sort of appeared, or beamed in from Planet Kickboxing Instructor, or whatever, with his clip-on microphone and his tapes of world-ending music and his shorn legs and arms.
“Oh,” my sister would say as he pulled off his sweatpants, “not the lime green shorts.”
“It is,” I said. “It is indeed Lime Green Shorts Day.”
“HOW ARE YOU FEELING!” Dale would say into his microphone. He did so love his microphone.
“Mmmffpt” class tended to respond, following him into a series of warm-up kicks and light punches.
Dale would then take two steps off of his instructor’s platform. “I SAID, HOW ARE YOU FEELING!”
Julie often chose to applaud rather than disgrace herself further by yelling louder. “YAAAAY!”
He retreated. “Don’t make me come out there!”
My sister and I adjusted our territory on the aerobics floor so that we had enough room to move, but not so much that Dale could accost us should he choose to Come Out There, a horrific experience consisting of Dale, who, when dissatisfied with the quality of excitement issuing from the floor, charged into the class and corraled students at random to throw punches into his outstretched hand. This was accompanied by a stream of shrieked encouragement: “PUNCH! PUNCH! PUNCH! ARGH! ARGH! PUNCH! PUNCH! COME ON! WHOOOOOOOO!” All eyes were cast pityingly upon you, and sweaty glistening Dale was, like, right there, and you had to touch him, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.
We normally withstood two Coming Out Theres per night without personally experiencing Wrath of Dale, but we always moved again during the cool-down exercises, though, to the back of the room, because Dale likes overmuch to splay on the leg stretches, especially when it was Lime Green Shorts Day.
whooooooooo at: mb@blondechampagne.com