#100percentmusclewoman

Hello, my spandex sidekick!  Welcome back to my sweaty corner of the internet.

I'm going to need a mop up in aisle 2.
I’m going to need a mop up in aisle 2.

I’ve mentioned previously that, on the list of admirable facets of my wife, Melissa, “Jazzercise Instructor’ ranks high up there right after “Ability to patiently tolerate a difficult spouse”.  I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned that she did this instructor job as a hobby, second to her primary career path as a patent-filing paralegal.   Well, after 5 years of hard service, the job got to a stress level that she could no longer tolerate, and so she exited stage left with middle fingers erect, at the beginning of April.

April has be an interesting month, then, because while I am around the house doing my normal job (for which I work from home), Melissa is also now just hanging around, working on household projects or learning new Jazzercise routines.   She’s much less stressed out and far happier, which makes me happy as well.  She’s always been one to make up songs spontaneously, but the other night I heard her making up a song about herself, from within the echoing concert halls of her shower, titled “One hundred percent muscle woman!”.   She’s always one for flexing her muscly form, forcing me to acknowledge her toned physique, and now we have a new song to serve as the soundtrack.

FEEL THE FITNESS!
FEEL THE FITNESS!

Probably also worth noting that this is the same woman who declared that she would NEVER work out, about 2 years ago.   #100PercentMuscleWoman

I hit 100 classes since Jan 1 at Jazzercise yesterday, so I’m 2/3rds of the way to my low-shouldered t-shirt.  The Helene watch is in full effect, but I am pretty sure there’s a good handful of classmates that have up to 120 classes at this point, so there’s no way I’m winning this contest.  Still, at this rate, I should have it around July 4th.  What better way to celebrate America’s Independence Day than liberating my swarthy shoulders from the confines of their oppressive garments.  Classmates will stop and stare at my shimmies, considering whether Michelangelo should have painted me on some cathedral ceiling instead of that “Adam” lump, who probably had very few jazzercise classes under his belt, comparatively.

Melissa recently ordered a few North Face sports bras.  These have a pocket built into the front of them, presumably so a runner could stow small necessities in there.  It even came with a little suggestion card as to what you should put inside this feature, depicting money, pills and a key to a car.  Melissa remarked that this Bra sounds like its advertising a pretty kickass party that we should RSVP to.  I went the other way with it:  fearing that North Face could encounter litigation for improper use of this pocket, they should instead display a placard of things that they recommend SHOULDN’T go in there, like a pet hedgehog, pink fiberglass attic insulation, or scalding hot coffee.  Of course, Melissa’s immutable singularity of focus meant that this pocket would be used for one specific item: candy.  “I can’t wait until I wear this to Jazzercise and announce that I’m going to pull a snickers bar out of my bra in the middle of class!” she exclaimed.

Wherever this bra is up to, I want in!
The actual suggestion card included:  Wherever this bra is up to, I want in!

Finally, May 1st marks “Sassy Pants Day” at Jazzercise.  This is basically the Jazzercise High-Holidays, a time of remembrance and reflection for our people, as well as celebration.   Everyone is required to source out some non-black, non-boring exercise clothes, and try to out-sassy their peers.  I’m thinking about ordering this little number to really ring in the warm weather.

So i just go ahead and pour the bleach directly on my eyeballs after seeing this?  Or dilute it down with gasoline?
So i just go ahead and pour the bleach directly on my eyeballs after seeing this? Or dilute it down with gasoline?
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#100percentmusclewoman