Exercise the Demon

Every time I blog, I promise myself that I am not going to continue to let whole weeks (and more) go by without putting up a new post. GOOD JOB ON THAT ONE.

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So, in case anyone was wondering, I had a little run-in with the Spawn of Satan two nights ago. I'm afraid to speak her name out loud, but maybe typing it won't invite any more wrath than she has already inflicted upon me:

DENISE AUSTIN.

And...crap. I just spilled half a can of Diet Pepsi all down the front of my shirt. See what happens when you mess with evil?

Anyway, I have one question to ask about Denise Austin, and that is WHAT IN THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THAT WOMAN????

A couple of weeks ago, when I was obviously on crack, I asked my cousin Rachael if she had any exercise DVDs she could loan me for a few weeks because, let's face it, my Paula Abdul "Get Up and Dance!" video tape is just a bit outdated.

She loaned me these two Denise Austin DVDs: Power Yoga and Fat-Blasting Yoga. Put the words "fat-blasting" on anything and I'm pretty much sold, so I was happy to take the DVDs home and give them a try. Never mind the little voice inside my head that said, "Oh, how easily we forget! Remember that Denise Austin Pilates video you got a couple of years ago? The one that you did once and now it's sitting in the garage in the box marked 'No Really, I Swear I'm Going To Use This Stuff Again'? Do you honestly think this is a wise idea?"

Whatever, Voice. That was Pilates; this is YOGA, fool! Duh! I can do this one easily!

I put the Power Yoga DVD into my husband's PS2 and fired it up, with my purple yoga mat, my Nalgene (or my "Hello, I want to be like everyone else") bottle filled with cool water, and my towel at the ready while I channeled my inner Buddha to help me get rid of my outer Buddha.

Here are the facts:

1. There is absolutely NOT a beginner level with Denise Austin. She is balls-to-the-wall Crazy Insane Energy Woman. From hell. Don't forget the From Hell part.
2. She will tell you repeatedly that she is proud of you and that she loves to see your smiling face. She will not realize that you are actually flipping her the bird. Hey Denise; can you hear this? Want me to TURN IT UP??
3. When she says, "Hold this pose," she really means, "By the time you get to this pose and determine where your toes should be pointing while your smiling face is turned toward the sun (Sun Salutation, dontcha know), we will all be ten poses ahead of you and good luck figuring it out, sucker."
4. The woman (or forked-tongue demon) behind and to the left of Denise, smiles maniacally the whole ENTIRE time like the Joker. That's because she can barely contain her evil hyena laugh as she pictures all of the victims "at home" falling prey to Denise's evil yoga powers.
5. There is a man in this video, inviting all of the Tostitos-and-Nacho-Cheese-Eating Men of the World to put down their footballs, take off their cleats, slip into some moisture-wicking yoga pants, and join in. My husband did not fall for this.
6. Tree Pose, Proud Warrior, Mountain Pose, Downward Dog, and many other official yoga positions will all degenerate into what I like to call I-Think-I-Just-Herniated-A-Disc-And-I-Have-No-Feeling-In-My-Feet Pose, which can be easily recognized by the crumpled-up, crying heap in the middle of the yoga mat. This was once a person.
7. There will come a time when Denise will expect you to sit cross-legged on the mat and then proceed to lift your whole entire body up off of the mat and dangle it there by the sheer strength of your arms. If you're like me, this will prompt a series of traumatizing flashbacks to elementary school and your inability to do the flexed-arm hang. These flashbacks will then comfort you as you use them to rationalize why you cannot do this cross-legged THING that Denise wants you to do.
8. Just when you think that the only thing worse than the pain you are already feeling would be if a giant kettle of boiling hot oil were poured over you, Medieval torture-style, the "workout" ends. BUT...only to go on into the next segment. And the next. And the next. I finally gave up fast-forwarding to see how many additional segments there actually were, but only because by that point, even my fingers were too sore to work the buttons on the controller.
9. Denise's voice. Raspy Mouseketeer Barbie Sucking on a Helium Balloon. Makes you yearn for the magical sounds of fingernails on a chalkboard.

The most enjoyable part of this experience was the expired Flexeril leftover from my husband's back surgery that I wolfed down in hopes of melting away the burning sensation in my lower back as I lapsed into a post-traumatic Sleep of the Dead and Yogafied.

I told my husband to remind me that the next time I want to borrow an exercise DVD from my cousin, I need to remember that even though she gave birth to twins just two and a half months ago, she and I are on RADICALLY different fitness levels. Ever the encouraging supporter, he said, "Gee, ya think??"

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Last night, in the spirit of still trying to put a little variety into my workouts, I picked up Denise A-hole's Fat-Blasting DVD. I noticed that while I tried to psych myself into giving it a try, my thoughts kept straying to how much more fun it would be to gouge my eyes out with red-hot pokers.

Instead, I watched the Biggest Loser while doing "laps" on the treadmill, and happily thought of how "redundant" and "boring" and "CHANGE IS BAD" were all my new favorite words.