I first dipped my toes into the world of aerobics when I was around 13 or 14, thanks to a Jane Fonda workout record. I was captivated by Jane—her vibrant tights and colorful legwarmers made her a beacon of fitness. I couldn’t comprehend why my babysitter’s mother held a grudge against her; my mom hinted it was something related to Vietnam.
In my mauve-painted room adorned with Laura Ashley wallpaper, I would blast that record and bounce around, performing for my goldfish, Biscuit and Tater. I like to think they danced along with me, though I doubt they had much of a choice. Sadly, they didn’t survive my transition to college; my family forgot to care for them.
As I grew, I moved on to a local aerobics studio aptly named “Fit & Fun.” I had the leotard to match my ambitions. My mom took me shopping at a Cincinnati department store, and I proudly selected a purple one. I paired it with Reebok high tops, shiny soccer shorts, and an unmistakable application of blue eyeliner and Revlon’s Silver City Pink lipstick.
My passion for aerobics persisted for years. Though I wasn’t particularly athletic—swimming was my strong suit, but competition made me anxious—those classes made me feel empowered. In college, my schedule revolved around IU Fit, the exercise program at the student center. During summer break, my parents didn’t quite grasp my frustration at missing classes; they wanted me to focus on work instead. With only one car shared between my brother and me, I often had to wait for his late shifts, sacrificing my precious aerobics time. Sometimes, I managed to persuade a high school friend to detour and drive me home just to squeeze in a class.
But as I hit my late 20s and early 30s, reality set in, and aerobics and I drifted apart. I lost track of my beloved purple leotard, and Jane faded into the background as I navigated the complexities of divorce and rebuilding my life.
This past summer, a friend coaxed me into trying a Jazzercise class. Walking into the studio was like stepping back in time. The atmosphere felt familiar—the setup, the upbeat instructor, and the sea of women moving together. The music pulsed with energy, and the instructor’s motivational words echoed around the room.
The differences were mostly about me. I now carry a bit more weight; my knees and a pinched nerve in my foot remind me of my age. The thought of squeezing into a leotard? Not a chance! After having twins at 40, my wardrobe consists of old yoga pants and a T-shirt from a family reunion that boldly states “Proud to Be Italian!” (A claim that often raises eyebrows).
Yet, the nostalgia of my first love for aerobics still sparks joy. In class, I feel a sense of belonging. I may not be the most graceful participant, but I revel in the experience. I’m no longer obsessed with attendance; I find joy in simply making time for it amidst family and work. On days I can’t make it to class, I bust out my moves in the kitchen—lucky family, right?
Aerobics and I have rekindled our relationship. I ditched the gym that I rarely visited and invested in a Jazzercise pass. I’m even contemplating a new wardrobe—perhaps even some fresh blue eyeliner! I recently heard that Jane has released her exercise video on DVD again; I might have to check that out soon.
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In summary, my journey with aerobics reflects the ups and downs of life. From teenage enthusiasm to adult realities, Jane Fonda remains a cherished figure in my fitness story.
Keyphrase: Jane Fonda aerobics
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