Tag Archives: Gen X

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?

Introverted Headbanger

SonghitsI headbang alone, and let’s be honest, most people should follow suit.  Proper headbanging makes people look like they are being electrocuted.  It’s a private thing, at least in my world.  Most people who meet me would think I’m into Bach, opera, or acoustic ballads of all kinds because I’m a middle-aged prep. In reality, I’m a hard rock kind of girl, but you won’t catch me at a rock concert unless my son is performing.  That would involve a crowd, nasty bathrooms, medication, and a possible panic attack.  No, I will stick to enjoying my music at home, on the elliptical.

I don’t just listen to rock music on the hamster wheel.  I attempt to perform it.  My son even taped (old lady word for recorded) me “singing” Man in the Box by Alice in Chains.  It’s out there somewhere in the YouTube universe.  My apologies go out to the members of Alice in Chains, both living and dead.  I’m sure even the deceased members heard me “perform” their song.  While I’m at it, I need to apologize to Quiet Riot, Def Leppard, Everclear, Ozzy, and many more.

I’ve been in love with Rock since I was 12.  That was when we finally got MTV.  It felt like I was the last human on the planet to have cable TV, in 1983.  First World problems.  One of the first videos I saw was Quiet Riot’s Cum on Feel the Noize.  I stood in front of the TV in my oversized OP shirt and pink-threaded Sergio Valente jeans,  and forgot all about David Bowie and Stevie Wonder.  THIS was music.  I was thrilled.

Soon after that, I discovered Def Leppard and entered into a long-term relationship with Joe Elliot, in my imagination. Photograph was my jam, if jam can be used to describe a hard rock song.  I loved that song so much that I walked all the way to Eckerd Drugs to purchase Song Hits magazine because it included the lyrics to the most popular songs.  This was before we could just Google everything.  It was probably the most exercise my Jordache jean-wearing behind got at that age.  It was either walk to the store or attempt to transcribe it, and we all know how well that works.

The next year, in eighth grade, I had to change schools due to a boundary change.  This was a blessing as it led me to a much better group of friends.  With new friends came better taste in clothes (Hello, Guess and Bongo!) and new music – British pop music.  I fell in love with George Michael.  Sadly, as we all know now, this love was not returned.  I also deeply admired all of the fellows in Duran Duran (as I still do), Depeche Mode, Tears for Fears, and many more.  I listened to nothing but British pop for two years.

Then, tenth grade came along, and Rock came back.  I started dating a “bad” boy, or at least that is what my friends and parents thought.  Really, he was just a teen boy with a lot of bad things happening in his life.  Anyway, he introduced me to classic rock.  I already liked Aerosmith, thanks to the cool version of Walk This Way they did with Run DMC, but I was introduced to the Eagles, Ozzy, Metallica, and many more during the course of this teen relationship.

Some time around 1991, I stopped caring about new music.  My tastes sort of froze there.  I don’t watch the Grammy’s, or any music awards shows, because I usually do not know most of the people or their music.  If I happen to hear a song on the radio, and like it, I will ask my son what it is and download it, but I don’t seek out new music.  Recently, due to some sort of glitch in modern technology, my son’s entire iTunes library suddenly appeared in my “cloud.”  So, I accidentally listened to Five Finger Death Punch.  (Old people, this is a group, not a song or a boxing match.)  I actually liked it.  I may have to listen to them again some time, on purpose.

Like a lot of people, good music to me is the music from my teen years.  That is what happens with a lot of people.  My step-dad listened to Frank Sinatra because that was popular when he was young.  My mom is a big Elvis fan for the same reason.  So that means that my fellow Gen-Xers and I will be blaring Def Leppard and Duran Duran in the nursing homes.  Now, that will rock.