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July 25, 2005
All around me,
body parts are in motion. From the moment I push open the giant glass
doors, give my card for the greeters to slide through the computer and
head to the locker room, the signs of body action are everywhere.
On my left,
exercise clothes hang from racks and are piled on shelves. To the
right, through shelves of protein powder, I watch a tall tanned woman
approach the juice bar. Wearing cheap comfortable clothes and
expensive white shoes, everyone walks at a brisk clip, their bodies
tired with sweat and faces flushed from action.
This is not a
world where I belong. I am more at home walking down a dusty road
looking for lizards darting through clumps of grass.
But I live in
the hottest zone on the weatherman’s map…a red zone at this time of
the year. Not only is it scorching outside, but my body is doing
things I used to see happen to other people…older people.
This is the year
I must deal with the boxes in storage. Either I get my body back into
the work skirts and favorite designer jeans, or I pass them on to
smaller, younger people.
Over the months
I have found ways to delight in this stainless steel and polished
glass playground. Parents come with their children in tow because
there is something for everyone: swimming pools, tennis courts,
basketball, rock climbing, yoga and kick boxing. In the weight room,
there is a machine for every muscle I have.
I started
simple. Walking. My pace is 2.9, my daily routine 30 minutes. All
around me, bodies are walking, running, climbing, rolling, pushing and
pulling. To pass the time, I close my eyes and imagine my blue
mountain lake with clouds rolling in.
Time passes
quickly today. Finally finished and showered, I sit in the MegaGym
lobby, waiting for my husband. A big screen television entertains
us. Or should I say…Sean and The Babes entertain us.
Sean struts and
bobs across the television screen, pointing and rapping. Behind him
the Babes gyrate. Rap and gyrate, bodies in motion, bobbing and
pointing and thrusting.
Honestly, I sit
in a MegaWorld of body parts thrusting, and not one of them is a
pelvis. Except for Sean and his Babes.
A mother walks
over with her young son, and they each settle into a brown leather
chair. Clearly, like me, they are just passing time. For lack of
something to do, their eyes turn to Sean. He gyrates with a Babe. He
gyrates with another Babe. Two babes at once. And then they do a
round of pelvic thrusts. I want to cover her son’s eyes.
Sean bumps and
grinds while his ten Babes get in a tight chorus line. In time with
the music, in unison they do pelvic thrusts. A mother and her two
toddlers walk behind me heading for the family locker room. I am
embarrassed for them.
I want to go to
the Customer Service desk and ask why we are not watching a basketball
game. Or what about ballet, Nureyev or
Baryshnikov
doing power
leaps across the stage? Or swing dance? Or ice skating? Of all the
wonderful things we humans can do with our bodies, in a MegaWorld that
exercises every muscle known to man without needing one pelvic
thrust…why are we subjected to big screen Sean and his Babes?
They lick their
lips and shoot us sultry glances. She against him, him against
her…and her…and her. A chorus line of pelvic thrusts, and I suddenly
want this song to end.
Was it only half
a life ago that Elvis provoked national outrage with one twitch of a
nervous leg? Yet, with a career built on body motions, I never
remember Elvis doing one pelvic thrust with a babe onstage.
Pelvic thrusts
are common fare in America these days. Most people would consider
them no big deal. MTV and Internet porn have given us bigger things
to worry about.
But, if little
things don’t matter, I wouldn’t be here in the MegaGym trying to undo
the damage of an extra ten calories. Big things are grown from little
things.
Elvis certainly
knew what we used to know…this kind of body motion is a private
thing. On stage, performed by a crowd of people we don’t know, it
degrades the very essence of what makes human beings special.
Customer service
needs to hear from us. We need to restore our sense of propriety that
has been dulled by years of pelvic thrusts set to music. Reshaping
the soul of a nation, like reshaping the body, comes from attending to
what matters…every little thing.
May 7, 2004
Thank You, Janet
July 30, 2004
James Bond in Danger...for Real
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