I went to Jazzercise last night, even though I tried to talk myself out of it. I arrived just in time to stand by the cute girl that always works her butt off. I was keeping up pretty good considering she is 21-years-old and I am not. It was when we reached our last cardio in the green zone that I started to feel weak in my heart. And fire in my thighs. I took it down to about 95 percent (okay 75 percent) so I wouldn’t feel like a total loser in front of cute college girl.
Afterwards, she approached me and said, “I love working out next to you. You make me push myself to work harder.”
Como say what?
That had me floating on cloud nine right out of the West University Community Center. I was craving pizza, but knew that it would be better to save money and go to the grocery store. I bought Hamburger Helper instead. Maybe not so healthy, but it will last me dinner, lunch and dinner again. When you do the math, that’s a $0.99 meal. Can’t beat it.
I gather a few other things and head to the checkout counter.
“May I see your ID please?”
For a minute it didn’t compute why the checkout girl would ask this. Do you have to show ID to use a debit card? Then I remembered…I was buying alcohol.
“ABSOLUTELY! Here you go!”
I floated right out of Randall’s and into my car wondering if it was the Jazzercise that makes people assume I am in my early 20s.
Of course, it could have been the Pi Phi t-shirt I had on.
Or the fact that I had just purchased a four-pack of Bartles and James Wild Berry wine coolers. Might as well have been Boone’s Farm…
No. It’s the Jazzercise.