Susan M. Boyer

USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Agatha Award Winner

Susan M. Boyer

USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Agatha Award Winner

In Which I Give Thanks to Felix Hoffmann

in Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain

Felix Hoffmann was a German chemist who, according to the Bayer website, in 1897, invented the first stable compound which would later be introduced as Aspirin. I will be eternally grateful for his efforts.

Yes, I went back to Jazzercise yesterday. Due to a long list of REASONS, (not to be confused with excuses) I haven’t exercised much lately. First there was the NASTY cold of late September and early October, followed closely by the sprained derriere incident of early November, then the holidays…I could go on, but what’s the point, really? Suffice to say, I am even more out of shape than is my custom.

Since Sugar and I recently booked a trip to St. John to celebrate the milestone anniversary (let’s not get into which one, okay?) that we actually passed a couple years back when we were too over-committed to go on that first honeymoon we never took, very soon, I will have to put on a bathing suit.

So, yesterday, I drug myself on over to the dance floor and let The Queen of Pain start whipping me back into some semblance of shape. I nearly missed class because the UPS man was late getting here with our Korbel shipment, and I have to sign for that. Besides, I really didn’t want to leave champagne on the front porch.  But, Brown showed up at the precise moment after which it would have been impossible for me to get to class on time.

I was really worried this time that I wouldn’t be able to make it through a whole class. I told the QOP that I needed to stand in the back, but she would have none of it. “They don’t want to be running over you back there any more than we do,” she said. The woman has no empathy–none, I tell you. Later, it dawned on me that the reason she wanted me up front was that if she had to hop off the stage and perform CPR, she’d have less floor to cover.

By the Grace of the Good Lord, I make it through without a medical incident or fall, and I avoided throwing up on PPJ’s floor. Now I’m popping Aspirin and using the hand-held massager on my major muscle groups. I won’t be going to class today, as my body needs time to recover. But tomorrow I’ve got to haul myself back in there. Casey only has until March 19th to get me Caribbean-ready.

Peace, out…

Susan

Jazzercise: The Cult

in Jazzercise

Okay, the thing with Jazzercise is, you really can’t quit. They won’t let you—I’ve tried. It’s like a cult: Once you’re in, someone has to send a team of deprogrammers to kidnap you out.

I had every intention of quitting earlier this month. But, as Betty (who power-guzzles her Kool- Aid) pointed out, my strategy was faulty. I went on a day when both Precariously Perky Julie and Casey, The Queen of Pain were there. I should have known better. They gave me all kinds of reasonable-sounding arguments why it was in my best interest not to quit. I caved.

Then, I went out of town, again, like we all knew I would. Since I didn’t get home until after the 15th (the cutoff date for cancellations in any given month) I’m in through the end of September. This, of course, was their plan.

But… I figured I’d go ahead and fill out my cancellation for next month ahead of time (having come to my senses) when I drug myself in there yesterday.

Jules was ready for me. When I walked in the door, she shoved a clipboard at me and told me to fill out the form. Okay, I started doing that. A few lines in, I realized I was filling out the “I agree not to sue you if you kill me” form that everyone has to fill out once a year. I scratched my head. It wasn’t time for me to do this. “Why do I need to fill this out?” I asked.

The place was full of people—Jules had some kind of special going on. She was very CONVENIENTLY too distracted to answer except for an over-the-shoulder, “It’s the release.”

Well, I knew THAT. I looked at her sideways. “You’re just trying to distract me from asking for my cancellation form.”

She trilled a laugh, tossed her ponytail, and quickly engaged in a serious conversation with someone behind me related to childcare.

“Here, Susan.” One of the class managers handed me a ticket. “We’re having a drawing today.”

When I turned back, Jules was chatting up a potential recruit. She had no time for my nonsense.

The crowd was moving toward the dance floor. All I could do was drop the clipboard and move with the group. It was that or be trampled.

After an hour with The Queen of Pain, I was too tired to argue with them.

Resistance is futile. At least I’ll be 24 forever…

Peace, out…

Susan

In Which I Cancel My Jazzercise Membership–Again

in Jazzercise, Precariously Perky Julie, The Queen of Pain

Every few months I realize that I’m not home enough to make regular Jazzercise participation a reality. It’s more like something I really want to do, and so, in one of my alternate realities, I Jazzercise daily. Here in the real world my attendance is not so regular. But the draft to my checking account is.

So, every now and then I go in and fill out a form to cancel my draft. Precariously Perky Julie (who owns the place) is no dummy. You can’t cancel by civilized method like email or phone. You have to go there and fill out a form. Which makes you think, “Well, if I can drag myself in there to fill out the stupid form, maybe I should just put on my dancing clothes and go dance.” I have done this several times.

Every time I go through with the cancellation, I email Jules a day or three later and say, “Never mind.” Because every time I cancel, my schedule shifts (because Sugar’s does) and I end up being at home because I don’t typically go with him on a trip if he’s flying. Precariously Perky Julie WILL allow you to cancel your cancellation via phone, email, smoke-signal–whatever. Like I said, she’s no dummy.

Today is August 9th. We are 221 days into 2010, and I have MAYBE been to 15 Jazzercise classes. I’m thinking I need to come up with an exercise plan I can actually execute. I’ve decided to make an iPod playlist and dance in the family room–just do random Jazzercise moves I’ve learned over the years plus whatever the music moves me to do. I think I’ll call this Spazzercise. If I’m out of town, I can Spazzercise in the hotel room.

Since I’ve already paid for August, I’ll go dance with the Queen of Pain today. That way, I won’t have to have the argument with myself about whether or not I should just go (because I can today) or cancel. I’ll do both.

I’ll let you know how long it lasts this time.

Peace, out…

Susan

Somebody Gets It

in Diets and Other Torture, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain, Vast Fat-Wing Conspiracy

I accidentally turned on Dr. Phil yesterday. Nothing against Dr. Phil, I’m sure he’s a great guy and all, but I  don’t do daytime TV. But, I’d stayed up far too late reading, slept in, and, as is my custom, I flipped on the TV while I had breakfast. I was outside my usual time slot for breakfast. Typically the news is on. That’s a whole nother rant.

I was fumbling–pre-coffee, mind you–with the remote, trying to turn the channel, when I heard this guy say, “I tried that low-carb diet. I snapped.”

He had my attention. I have SO been there. Several times, in fact.

I squinted at the sign for the day’s episode. “The Ultimate Fat Debate.”

Oh. Dear. Tara.

They had my attention.

The guy who was undone by the low carb diet turned out to be a comedian, John Pinette. This guy is FUNNY, and he is so after my own heart. Talking about his personal trainer he says, “I don’t do ups. Sit ups, push-ups, chin-ups… I do downs. I can sit down, lie down…gimme a cheeseburger, I”ll wolf it down…” Some of his clips are available online. In another clip from this routine, he says, (as I have often maintained to The Queen of Pain herself) “Ups defy gravity. Gravity is a law, and I obey the law.”

Aside from the comedian, Dr. Phil had a panel, and I gotta say, they weren’t nearly as entertaining. Although, there were a few places where I thought they were going to go all Jerry Springer. That trainer chick from The Biggest Loser, was on, along with some guy with a shirt that said “No Chubbies.” They were squaring off against a group of VOLUPTOUS women from groups like The National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance. These women were (justifiably) NOT HAPPY with the chap in the “No Chubbies” shirt. I couldn’t look away.

But, I did hie me to Jazzercise yesterday, and defied gravity one more time.

Peace, out…

Susan

On My Own Recognizance

in Jazzercise

So I’m back in Indiana this week, last week was Kentucky. I’ve had no access to Jazzercise–well except for the DVD’s I can use in the hotel room. I actually did this one day last week when the exercise room was full. Doing Jazzercise moves on carpet is less than optimal, but I tried. (Aerobic shoes don’t slide on carpet.)

I’ve been using the treadmill, elliptical machine, and/or bike for an hour every day except the one, and I have to say, exercise is painfully dull when you’re watching the news instead of moving to the groove. Also, NO ONE in the exercise room taunts me with a microphone, or yells when I slack off. I’ve come to depend on that.

I really don’t enjoy watching the news anyway. The only time I watch it is when I’m in the exercise room and someone else has it on. As if exercise wasn’t depressing enough…

Valentine’s Day

in Jazzercise, Precariously Perky Julie

Last year around this time, Precariously Perky Julie devised a particularly brutal Jazzercise set. It was full of what my husband refers to as “Man-Hater” songs. Songs with lots of punching and kicking to lyrics like “Why’d you lie to me…good for nothing type of brother” (Anastacia) and “I’m not in love” (not the original by 10 CC but a remake).

The Queen of Pain used to have sets like this back during the unfortunate phase between He Whose Name Cannot be Uttered and when she found her True Love.

PPJ roared and  foamed at the mouth while teaching this set. At the time, I thought we really needed to find poor PPJ a man because we were all paying the price for what the last one had done–she like to put me in traction. I started to blog about it, but, then I thought, the poor girl is obviously upset about a recent breakup, so I didn’t.

Fast forward to this year’s Valentine’s Day set. Same songs. Same growling. Same pain. At one pint, she shouted, “Angry hips!” WTF? I allowed as how this set seemed familiar, and I asked her, “Jules, are you mad at the same man from last year, or is this a new one?”

“ALL MEN!” she howled.

Hmm… this explains it. Women who look like Julie are without a man for one of three reasons: One, their romantic interests are not of the masculine variety (pretty sure that’s not the case here); Two, they have some sort of screw loose, and no matter how gorgeous they are, they keep running men off (you know, women who boil rabbits and such–again, not the case–PPJ is a sweetheart when she’s not kicking our rear ends); or, Three, some jackass has put them off men for good. They simply have decided they do not want another man, have adopted multiple cats, and watch a lot of reality TV.

This is our Julie.

This situation is not irreversible, but it requires a special man to repair the damage done to a woman’s psyche after she has been jackassed. I’m thinking that the clientele of Jazzercise of Taylors should perhaps mount a search before next Valentine’s Day. And, round up a posse to hunt down whoever did this to PPJ. We are paying for his jackassery.

Time for my aspirin…

 

Home Sweet Home

in Jazzercise, Road Trip, The Queen of Pain

Okay, so I wasn’t thrilled about coming home (where I have to make my own bed, breakfast, and afternoon cookies) but now that we’re here, I’m warming up to the place.

No matter how nice the folks are everywhere else, OUR PEOPLE are here. Some of them, anyway. Our family’s a little scattered, but there’s a clan of our relatives and friends in Greenville, and I do miss them when we’re gone.

Also, hotel beds have come a long way, but none of them is quite like the one in our room at home.

And, while hotels have treadmills, elliptical machines, stationary bikes, and indoor pools, at home, I can go to Jazzercise and dance while being mocked by an insanely thin ALIEN. As I’ve mentioned a time or two, The Queen of Pain is gorgeous (but once again completely flat-chested now that she’s finished the final phase of her most recent birthing ritual–no more shimmying in her class–BLESS HER HEART). But, I think she’d be a little less cranky if she ate something besides salads and grilled chicken with steamed vegetables every day. You just know she’s NEVER had a Mega Moo Mocha Moo Latte.

I want credit towards my 100 club T-shirt–which now takes 150 classes to earn–for all that huffing and puffing I did on treadmills, etc., but the Queen of Pain is having none of it. This is patently unfair, as I can’t attend class while out of town, but have been working our regularly–okay, semi-regularly. I think I’ll appeal this ruling to Precariously Perky Julie. I’m not holding my breath…

Off to take some aspirin and soak in the tub.

It’s good to be home.
  

Return of The Queen of Pain

in Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain

She’s baaack. Actually, she came back last week, but I had a very good REASON for not showing up on Wednesday. I had a migraine–weather changes, etc. I CANNOT exercise after taking a Relpax. I can’t drive after taking a Relpax, but that’s a whole nother story.

The Queen of Pain is back onstage at Jazzercise of Taylors, and every muscle in my body is aware. We got an early start on my New Year’s resolution today. She thinks (and I know this because she made a smartass comment during class–while wearing the mic) that I will abandon my early NYR by Wednesday. That sounds about right. On the other hand, I might stick with it just for the novelty. I have a vague memory of what being thin felt like. Seems like I was hungry a lot…

QOP quote of the day: “Breathe through your noses. Those aren’t just for piercing.” I guess thirty women gasping for breath and clutching various body parts is unattractive.

In other Jazzercise news, the group that marched/danced in the Greenville Christmas parade won some sort of award–best dance troupe or some such. I did not participate–I’ve done the parade thing, back in high school. Only we didn’t shimmy.

Look, I’m not saying that pole-dancing moves got them the award, but I did hear that they were PRET-TY theatrical when they pranced past the judges’ stand.

I’m just saying…

Off to pop some aspirin and soak in the Jacuzzi…

It’s Been Monday All Day

in Jazzercise

This is the best excuse I have for not going to Jazzercise. I’m just not feeling it. It’s Monday. Also, The Husband is home. He’s off this week, which I’m really, really, really SO HAPPY about.

But, when he’s home my routine heads south on a 747. I have to send him out on LONG errands just to get some writing in. Today’s actually been pretty good because he’s fascinated by that super-load generator  traveling through South Carolina right now. Something about the size… (It’s so big it takes four tractor trucks to pull/push it around.) Whatever. It’s a guy thing. He’s been out with his brother looking at it for hours. They probably did a few other equally guy things. Hey, as long as they stayed out of nudie bars, I’m fine with it.

I’m going to turn on some music and dance around the house for a while. Maybe that’ll burn enough calories to keep a pound or two at bay. If I sit still too long, weight jumps onto certain areas of my VOLUPTOUS frame and clings for dear life.

Who am I kidding? This is Thanksgiving week. No matter what, I’ll gain five pounds. Maybe I’ll just relax and enjoy it. Where are those Lindor truffles?

Top Ten Motivational Tidbits I Heard at Jazzercise Today

in Jazzercise, Precariously Perky Julie

So, I drug myself into Jazzercise today. This was a challenge, as by nature I am a lethargic sort. I like to dance (once I’m there). But I was home. I had books, food, wine–no pulsating need to go out. Not to mention I had work to do. My main character woke me up at 3 a.m. pitching a huge fit about wanting to ride a jet ski. I digress.

Precariously Perky Julie was onstage. The workout came complete with lots of Russian ballet moves–or possibly curse words–and her favorite, dramatic final poses. Maybe it was my imagination, but PPJ seemed a bit tense. Her words of wisdom and inspiration from the stage were very nearly worthy of The Queen of Pain. Here’s what PPJ had to allow (minus the stuff in Russian):

 10. You haven’t heard this song? You’re not hip, (This from the girl who included King of the Road in her set. Not that I have anything against Roger Miller, or songs written in 1965. I’m just saying.)
  9. And here we’ll just let our abs hang out. Not! Suck those in.
  8. I’ve got my eye on you.
  7. I hate to burst your ball-bubble, but we’re not sitting on those balls.
  6. No extraneous shaking. (Seriously, if we could pull that off would we need her?)
  5. The shirts for the Christmas parade come in a generous fit. (I’m buying a shirt, but I marched in my last parade in high school.)
  4. They hang long.
  3.  Do not snarl at me during this song. I like it. (It was my trying-not-to-fall-out look. I promise.)
  2.  Try not to let your legs just come careening down.
  1.  Engage the muscle–don’t let it flap all over the place. (See #6)

Like a pro, PPJ maintained her perkiness all during class. But I think her sunny disposition may be waning. This, I fear, is my fault. I am a challenge to PPJ. She likes people to smile while they sweat. That is SO not in my nature. I stand right in front of her.

One of those reality shows with dancing comes on tonight. That’ll cheer her up.

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