OMG, y’all. Oh my. Oh…just…I’m having a hard time typing because I am sort of whooping in delighted joy. My dog has come trotting in from the other room because she thinks something’s wrong with me.
And something may be wrong with me, because I am completely in love with a new/old/who-the-heck-knows exercise routine. You’ve probably seen it on the facebook in the last few days. It’s called Prancercise.
Go to Jezebel to view the sample video. See if you can stick with it through the end, because her arms get tired, and it’s brilliant.
I confess that I don’t really know if Prancercise is real, and I’m not gonna find out. I think there is a book, perhaps it was a thing back in the 80’s. It doesn’t matter. I’m reveling in the fact that someone is on video prancing about on a crappy asphalt walking path.
Because here’s the thing.
I WANT TO BE DOING IT, TOO. Well, perhaps not prancing, but some variation of it. I walk a lot. I love walking. And I love that I can mix up my music on my IPhone to get a good walking mix. But I hate that I can’t dance-walk to the music for fear of looking ridiculous. Think how much more FUN long walks would be if you could dance/walk them? Do a spin when it feels right. Stomp around, pump a fist here or there, leap, shimmy, shake those hips…come on, think about it. If you didn’t worry that you’d look like an ass, wouldn’t you want to do it too?
So prance on, lady, prance on. You are my hero. You keep prancercising with your bad self and someday I hope I’m strong enough in myself to say “screw it, I’m gonna dance while I walk, and I don’t care if you think I’m nuts.”