Tahitian Hip Flop

I have to exercise!

No, I am not a fitness freak! Size 12 suits me just fine, but I have a P.E. class online for college credit toward an Associate's degree in the field of "Whatever I can get the soonest." I have been using an awesome yoga DVD from the library where the people are not too in touch with their Cheeee or all freaky holistic, tree huggerish. Unfortunately, I had to take it back to the library and the one I quickly grabbed on the way out the door, was for a "mature adult." I think that is the politically correct way to say that the person has one foot in the grave and the other in a cast. It was even too slow on fast forward. Before my brain stem could start atrophying from inactivity, I switched it off and looked for an alternative. My other choice for exercise instruction in a box was a DVD called "Tahitian Hip Hop." Talk about polar opposites. I was transported to a tropical beach watching three island beauties who wanted me to shake my hips so fast that they were a blur. Here I was in my desperately-need-a-shower pony tail, with my comfy pajama pants and black t-shirt that doubles as a kleenex, watching three tan, tone women in bikini tops, and short skirts with grass skirt belts. I felt like a thorn among roses, or would it be a fern among tropical lilies? Either way, I felt very out of my element. My abdominals are more like abominables and if I want to get rid of the saggy spare tire, this is definitely a good video for me. If I survive! I need to go lay down. I think that I ruptured my spleen.