Day 2 I joined Jazzercise.
Like resurrected from it's 1980s grave, Jazzercise.
And it's totally rad {jazz hands - get 'em up, girls}.
Granted I've had to get over its passé stigma (When I told my mom, she responded, "Oh my gosh! I used to go to Jazzercise when you and Morgan were little." And even Golden Girl Dorothy mentioned taking Jazzercise classes.)
But let me tell ya, this ain't your Grandma's Jazzercise. Sure we still do the classics (my grapevine puts the California raisins to shame), but we also do moves that would make your Grandma roll in her grave. Don't get me wrong, the moves are G-rated compared to those pole-dance classes that were all the rage (No, I have never participated. Yes, I only know about them because of that one time on Oprah), but the modern day Jazzerciser will come to know the limits of his/her body's ability to gyrate.
For instance, today I learned that I might be a tad slow on the gyration scale, but I got a lot to gyrate, so that counts for extra.
Because it's all about that bass.
And a confident chassé.