Darlings! Your ever expanding yours truly (in terms of both readership and girth) has joined something miraculous called the New York City Ballet Workout at her gym and she is en route (if she doesn't collapse of exhaustion or hurt any knees in the process) to become a regular Sylphide.
After one of these tough little classes, I'm hopeful I may finally lose the tamale shaped waist and become long, elegant and beautiful, like Anna Pavlova.
Seriously, this thing is genius, because it gives you a very complete workout to classical music with ballet technique although you don't really need to have done ballet class before. They also make you do abs, which when I try on my own it's mostly no more than 20 reps and I call it a month.
Just so you know, in my youth I did take ballet and modern dance, and jazz and whatnot. Today I am as limber as a concrete wall. However, between the music and the dance combinations, which are actual ballet coreographies, and all that port de bras, I feel, as María would say, pretty.
I am convinced this class is great because I sweat like a fish (this is in homage to Mr. Ex-Enchilada's dear Uncle Harry, who once said that someone smoked like a fish (?)).
We all engage in the fantasy that we are long and tall and beautiful, plus trying to learn the steps is a great mental workout as well.
Applause. Roses fall from the sky. Take a bow.
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