And The Apocalypse DID Arrive About An Hour Later
For background information, see my previous post. Oh.My.Gawd. My sister and I went to Jazzercise class this morning, and fucking-a did we get an EYEful and an EARful!
Let me 'splain. OK, so most of us women show up to class in workout pants/capris/shorts and a loose t-shirt or a tank-top with our handy sports bras on with The Girls™ tucked neatly away. But today, we had a special outfit on a very special woman join us.
Holy Jesus on a skateboard, in the name of all that is good and right in the world.... this, was.... Most. Definitely. Not. Right.
I shit you not. I damn near had to leave the class. I wanted to double over in laughter. I wanted to run and get my camera phone (my Bitchin' Razr). I wanted to yell out at the top of my lungs, "Are you fucking serious that you're going to wear THAT?!????"
Oh sweet Jeeeezus! A ghost from Jazzercise of the '80s is visiting us... clothing-wise, at least.
Marie was about 68 years old, bless her heart, and about to Jazzercise with our motley crue. Hey, that's fine and dandy, we all thought. (Well, I'm assuming we all thought that...) Anyway, as I was sitting on the floor putting my shoes on, I looked up and saw that she had on what my family refers to as sanitary shorts (from when my brother and sister played soccer.... they would wear a white pair of spandex-y, tight-fitting shorts under their soccer shorts to reduce chafing, jangling of the private bits, and embarassment if the shorts ripped or got pulled down, etc.) AND a robin's-egg-blue leotard under her big t-shirt.
OK, cool... she's got her "gear" on and is ready to go.
And then? The t-shirt came off. I thought my eyes were going to bleed -- not only from what I was seeing, but also from embarassment for her.
Now, before I continue, let me say that I was glad for her on three things:
- The fact that she was there to Jazzercise with us at her age... that was very cool.
- The fact that she looked as good as she did for her age.
- The fact that she was comfortable enough to wear what she did.
Wedgie Lady, as my sister now refers to her, was all in her very own glory in her robin's-egg-blue leotard with white spandex shorts. Oh, let me tell you. She gave it her all, though. Sort of. She didn't quite have the same amount of physical energy as the majority of us, but that's due to her age. However, she DID have some vocal energy. Yes, vocal. She felt the need to hoot and holler on damn near every beat. She also felt the need to yell. And yeeee-haw! And whoooo! AND? She felt she needed to clap her hands repeatedly.
I have never been so distracted in a Jazzercise class. Ever. Evah!
I almost had to stop because I couldn't concentrate with all the hootin' and hollerin' and wedgie-removin' that was going on. Christ on a cracker, it was more than I could handle. And let me tell you, I'm accustomed to handling much more than that. I guess it was just sensory overload for me.
I had planned to grab my camera phone at the end of class and snap a pic, but she had to leave early. I was disappointed. However, I was overjoyed that I would be able to concentrate for the remainder of the class.
Now, we just need to pray that Marie doesn't show up to tomorrow morning's class... or, if she does, that I can get my camera phone and use it.