my apologies to you, mr. billy blanks

so my roommate has these workout dvds called yoga booty ballet. yeah, you read right. yoga booty ballet. i may or may not have discovered these dvds while she was at work one day and i also may or may have not pranced around in our living room to one of the dance versions... and the neighbor below may or may not have later complained about the cacophony of elephants, hippos, and rhinos he heard upstairs. hey, don't judge me.

anywho, my roommate tried her hardest to get me to do one of these workouts with her tonight, but with the seizures lately, i had a convenient excuse to decline. however, she looked disappointed so i tried to pacify her by claiming i was her moral support... which amounted to me gawking in the chair while she contorted herself awkwardly to bollywood dance music while attempting to copy a floozy superwoman in spandex who moved in a way that is clearly inhuman.

during this time i quickly came to the conclusion that no one should ever watch a workout video if they're not going to participate. for some unthinkable reason it is acceptable, though not enjoyable, to endure the overly bubbly personality of the workout host when you're trying hopelessly to follow their lead, but by the spear of neptune and everything sacred to greco-roman mythology, it is positively nauseating to listen to them constantly jabber about properly flexing your glutes and shouting encouragement like "keep it going ladies! we're gonna get funky with this one!" when you are flat on your bum staring at the screen. moreover, when you're actually working out to these dvds it's arguable that the host's stellar abs and perky butt serve as a motivation, as something to work towards. however, when you're sitting on the couch thinking about those amazing peanut butter girlscouts cookies you just ate, rippling muscles barely clothed in spandex just seem like cruel joke that taunts and jeers with every bend and flex. yeah well you know what i say to that? back off ms. perky butt. sure i can't fit into any of my nice slacks anymore, but by golly i still have my dignity... and i happen to enjoy jiggling thank you very much.

on a side note: i did appreciate the token "normal" girl, who was probably only slightly overweight, but looked huge compared to the sculpted models surrounding her. i liked her a lot because i felt like we would relate well. both of us stumble around like an elephant when trying to workout and both of us steer clear of cleavage. bestest friends in the making.

all in all the experience was traumatizing enough for me to decide that i am thoroughly satisfied with the girth of my thighs and the jiggle in my step. here's to creating a postive self-image. cheers to you yoga booty ballet.

*disclaimer: alright folks, i really do have a great self-image. not that any of you would, but i expect no comments along the lines of "oh nicolle, you're not fat at all." don't worry, i know. i do indeed enjoy my body type a lot, even if it has gotten a wee bit fuller in the hips as of late.

**additional disclaimer: i really, really, really like those peanut butter girlscouts cookies.

now where did i put that tae bo tape...