Ok. So I'm doing this Jazzercise instructor training thing. My tryout? 2 weeks from yesterday! Can I get an "eeeeeeeekkkkkkkk!!!!"?
At this point in my training, I now have 1 'real' mentor, 1 'partial mentor', and 3 'helper' mentors. It didn't start out this way, it's just sorta happened. Every day, I'm either training or discussing training with SOMEONE. It's a little overwhelming. Both in the 'wow, so many people want to see me succeed' way, and the 'wow, so many people are telling me so many different things, I no longer know my head from my ass' way.
As I've gotten farther along in this training process, I've realized that NO subject is off limits. There's the basics, of course: technique (arm placement, shoulder placement, knee placement, ass placement, pinkie placement...), cuing (too loud, too soft, not talking enough, talking too much, what said when talking...), equipment (take the battery out of the mic, wind the cord this way, use these plugs, don't smash your hand into the beam on the ceiling...), you know, all that crap that one would expect.
And then there's the not-so-basics. Like my pony tail (it's bouncy. The students love it. The instructors? Not so much). Or my height (seriously, you'd think it was some great accomplishment. And it led to that whole smashed hand on the ceiling thing I referenced earlier.). Or my clothes (to wear the Jazzercise logo or not to wear the Jazzercise logo. Thick straps or thin straps. Full length or capri. Low shoes, or midrise shoes. Seriously, the clothing for this little en devour is an investment!).
And this week? MY BOOBS! Apparently my sports bras are not quite supportive enough and the girls sorta flop sometimes. I can handle one person gently pointing that out. Really, I appreciate it. But, 3 separate conversations about the floppy chest lumps I'm sporting, all stemmed from several conversations they had about me without me around? Seriously? They sit around and discuss how my breasts are floundering about? It's not like the girls are gonna pop out and hit someone, thus causing some sort of disastrous breast/nose injury and leading to the strangest law suit ever.
Sigh. Knowing my floppers have been a subject of conversation among my mentors is less than fabulous. It's downright embarrassing. And now all I can think about when I'm on that stage.
If I had a Native American name, it would have to be 'Floppy Boobs'.
'Floppy Boobs,' coming soon to a Jazzercise studio near you.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
I am enjoying being a new follower,
u give me a laugh.
What a way to start your Jazzercise, thinking bout your chest, I suppose it will take away some of the first time instructor nerves!
enjoy ur weekend!
carol
Hi Floppy Boobs, nice to meet you. I'm 'Tits Flap in the Breeze'
Not going to lie. This made me laugh and cringe. Not nice that they talk about you behind your back...or rather boobs.
Do what I do. Strap them down and THEN put on a sports bra. Suckers won't move. Cross my heart, kiss my elbow.
You know what's worse than floppy boobs? I mean other than my flapping in the breeze ones? That weird little crease you get near your armpit. I mean, really, wtf is that?!
And uh if you don't know what I'm talking about, forget I ever said anything.
You make me laugh every day. Seriously, you are one of the funniest women/writers I know. Thanks for always keeping it real and making me LAUGH OUT LOUD.
Be proud of those floppy girls, dammit! But keep them contained, because flying tits can cause some serious injury ...
Post a Comment