Jun
13
Moving on (COUNT IT! COUNT IT!)
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June 13, 2007
Well, I never thought I’d be saying this . . . but I succumbed to the most faddish and infomercial-esque of self-improvement methods, allowing a man to enter my house in order to shout random things in my ear (“COUNT IT! COUNT IT!”) and intimidate me with his shiny, bulging muscles. And although the entire experience was more than a little ridiculous, my ass tells the story of success, which goes like this: OH MY GOD OW OW JESUS OW.
I’m talking, of course, about Tae Bo:
Feast your eyes on the terrifying visage of Mr. Billy Blanks, a man comprised of rippling sinew; a strange, Paris-Hilton-like, comes-and-goes drooping eyelid; and a series of robotic (but surprisingly effective) motivational phrases featuring the term “ya’ll”.
I took that photo while attempting to work out to the “Cardio Circuit 2” DVD obligingly coughed up by Netflix, which at first seemed chock full of faults: the music sucked, Billy’s increasingly transparent pink shirt was disturbing, and his cues were hard to follow—but about halfway through I realized that I needed an excuse to hit the pause button because hey! Were those my lungs . . . lying on the floor?
There is a woman on the DVD whose utterly ripped physique and periodic screams of encouragement to her fellow sufferers seem to indicate she is there as a motivator, or a shining example of What To Aspire For, but the longer I was forced to endure her grim, ferocious presence, complete with one fist thrust dramatically in the air after each routine and a triumphant shriek aimed to the class (“YEAH! YEAHHH!”), the more I began to . . . well, it doesn’t seem nice to say that I began to really, really dislike her, but there it is.
It’s just that she reminds me of an evil member of the Inner Party observing us all in order to report us for our various physical shortcomings, and I’m positive she goes batshit during the Two Minute Hate.
(She’s probably a perfectly nice person when she’s not doing Tae Bo.)
Billy periodically pulls up her shirt and paws her midsection, ostensibly to show her ab muscles during a routine, and I cannot help but picture the behind-the-scenes footage involving the two of them. JB, briefly passing by the living room and catching sight of the TV, observed: “Man, I bet he tears into her, you know what I mean?” And I DID know.
(Edited to add: oh my GOD, I have learned that the Terminator girl is Billy’s daughter [!!!], so clearly JB and I are going straight to hell.)
All in all, I am much more fond of chirpy Chalene Johnson and her focus-on-FUN! Turbo Jam workout, but that Tae Bo definitely has something going for it. Holy crap, I’ve joined the Cult of Billy. COME ON, YA’LL!
Jun
12
Part 2: a love story
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June 12, 2007
I hardly know what to say in the face of all your amazing, supportive comments, except thank you. I feel better for having told the tale.
Before I turn this blog back to lighter topics, there is something else I wanted to talk about. Some of you mentioned how amazing JB has been to stay by my side during that whole mess, and you are right. You don’t know the half of it, what he’s gone through with me.
JB and I used to drink together all the time. For the first few years that we lived together, alcohol was a huge part of our lives. We had our favorite beers, our favorite mixed drinks, our favorite places to go out and get drunk.
Somewhere along the line our individual relationships with alcohol changed, and JB’s fundamentally healthy take-it-or-leave-it approach began to seem very different from my daily drown. Over time I infected my marriage more and more with everything that comes with a major drinking problem: lies, booze-fueled fights, emotional trespasses.
JB tried to help me, but I didn’t want to be helped. When I look back on it, I realize I was sabotaging everything so I would be free to pursue my path of ruin, with no one around to make me feel guilty.
We came very close to divorce. JB had every reason in the world to walk away, and he almost did.
But he didn’t. He stood by me after I had taken a sledgehammer to our marriage, and he stood by me after I promised to quit drinking then got a fucking DUI.
He quit drinking altogether, so I wouldn’t have any temptations. He gave up what was for him a harmless but very pleasurable activity, for my sake. That was years ago. He’s never had so much as a beer since.
Every single thing in our lives has changed since we first started dating. We once had a completely carefree, booze-fueled lifestyle devoid of responsibilities, and it is like we have traveled some unimaginable distance to where we are now. And we are still together, still finding new things to love about each other, still making each other laugh.
I think of the vows we took, how for richer, for poorer can mean something entirely different than money. JB has been with me through both, and I will never, ever know how I got so lucky.
Our lives are nearly bursting with richness these days. (It’s exactly what he deserves.)
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