Tag Archives: Fashion

Gen Xaerobics

I’m only allowed to give myself concerts on the elliptical for 20 minutes at a time or my ankle will start to hurt.  It’s been four months since I hurt my tendon and began a series of Lemony Snicket-worthy unfortunate events.  If you haven’t been following my award-winning (I use the term loosely) blog, don’t worry; I have links.

Oh Pity Poor Me

The Six Ways I Almost Died

My Grown Up Tantrums

Awesome Things About Having A DVT

You can read all about my mobility woes, or I can give you the “That’s what you missed on Glee” summary version.  Here it is:

I fell down some stairs backwards, while trying to save my cat from eating electrical cords.  Then, I ignored the pain and exercised and walked on my injured ankle for two weeks because I’m tough like that.  When the pain was too much, I went to an awesome foot and ankle doctor who gave me a removable boot cast to wear.  Because of the injury and immobility, along with the estrogen from birth control pills, Santa brought me a DVT for Christmas.  My husband gave me shots in the stomach, and I’ve been taking Coumadin (AKA rat poison) for almost 3 months. And that is what you missed about me.

So, I should mention that this is the first time in my nice, safe, sedentary life that I have injured myself.  I should also mention that I would like to lose 20 pounds and I would like to be less sedentary. Through all of this, I have learned a thing or two about moving in a way that won’t cause injury to my not quite 27 year-old joints and tendons. I’ve also learned that I am only motivated to exercise when I am listening to 80’s music.   So, as a self-titled subject expert on all things injury, blood clot, and Depeche Mode, I’ve decided to design my own aerobics class as I have hated every group gym class I have ever taken.   Here is my very basic plan for Gen Xaerobics:

1.  There would be no club/dance music.  Electronic beats and nasally females singing about the beats of their hearts do not motivate me to exercise; neither does Latin music.  This is probably because it was shoved down my throat a lot, along with key lime pie, another dislike, during my childhood and young adulthood in South Florida.   This type of music motivates me to stuff foreign objects in my ears to drown out the noise.  So, we would only have 80’s rock music in my Gen Xaerobics class.  Of course, during the “cool down” portion of the class, we would need to move on to some good, slow 80’s British pop.  We would always, always end the class with King of Pain. It just fits, you know?

2. We would limit our moves to NON-impact only.  There would be no jumping, running, or jogging, just some good old-fashioned Elaine from Seinfeld dance action.  The kick would be optional depending on each person’s balance.  Break-dancing, while popular in the 80’s, would be discouraged to avoid dislocated joints, tendon injuries, and bad music.

3. Unlike most gym classes, singing would be encouraged. Prizes would be given to the person who knows all of the words, even if a group of stray dogs gathers at the door of the gym to howl in agony at the singer’s vocal range.  I’m talking about myself here.

4. Everyone would need to wear neon unitards with clashing leg warmers.   High-top white Reeboks would be optional.

Let’s face it.  As Gen Xers, we need exercise that won’t pop our tendons or leave us permanently hunched over. We need to be able to listen to Duran Duran without feeling guilty, or without reminiscing about all the people we didn’t date high school, or some of the one’s we did. I’m talking about you, Ducky.  So, let’s make Gen Xaeorbics a reality.   Who is with me?

“Dungahrees ah fah fahmahs!”

momandJohnThat’s what my step-dad, originally from East Boston, used to say whenever someone called him “dressed-up.”  “Fahmahs” is Bonstonese for farmers. When he went out to dinner, he put on khakis and a good button-up shirt, sometimes pink.  I guess this is dressed-up for Florida.  I don’t think I ever saw the man in jeans, other than denim shorts (“shots”) when he was painting or gardening.

My step-dad has been dead for 13 years now, but his sayings and philosophies still live in my brain.  I swear I could hear him comment on “dungahrees” when I was at the mall a few weeks ago.  I was sitting on a bench, sipping some kind of liquid candy bar from Starbucks, and waiting for my son to finish a training session at the Apple store.  I had already checked FaceBook on my phone and caught up on Words With Friends, so I just decided to people watch, or really denim watch.

EVERYONE was wearing jeans.  There were people wearing jeans with boots, heals, loafers, and sneakers. They paired their denim with nice shirts, t-shirts, sweatshirts, leather jackets, jeweled belts, and sometimes big sparkly necklaces.  There was dark denim, faded denim, holey denim, tight jeans, loose jeans, skinny jeans, and even pajama jeans, for those who have given up.

I know I’m starting to sound like Bubba talking about shrimp, but people seem to have more ways to wear jeans than he had ways to prepare shrimp.  I guess it strikes me as odd because I don’t understand why.  As a non-jean person, I have asked people why they love jeans so much, and I have gotten the same answer – comfort.

Um, really?  Maybe I am spoiled from 8 years of working from home, but when I think comfort I don’t think denim.  I think flannel pajamas.  Though, unlike many Wal-Mart shoppers, I don’t wear them in public.  Leggings and big sweaters are a close second, and acceptable in public, followed by long skirts.  Even dress pants are more comfortable than jeans.  Denim, unless it is pajama “denim,” is stiff and thick, not really comfy.  It’s durable.  That’s why “fahmahs” wear it.  They need something tough because they work hard.  Walking the mall is not hard work.