Mambo Queen

In this lovely New Year, that began with much glitter, love, spiked nog, great food, and warm fuzzies, I have made a decision. I am abandoning my job as an editor and beginning my training as the first ever world class Ballroom Pilatsa Dancer.

What is Pilatsa, you should have asked yourself if you were reading carefully. The answer, my darlings, requires much backstory and magic and all that. Prepare thyself.

At the towering and valiant Costco, I passed the fitness section and did a double take. Mari Windsor, face of the renowned Windsor pilates series, was on the cover of several boxed sets, grinning at me. Her little elven face was imploring me to update my normal pilates routine. This set was all about fat burning, which is my thing these days after all the yummy cookies and pie and second helpings of mashed potatoes. Who am I kidding? Third helpings.

Anyway, I succumbed to the brightly colored packaging and put it in the cart.

I forgot about it, as the rest of the day was all about being with my so-special friend Mister DS, and there was much discussing about significant others and blazer-shopping that needed to happen. But when the afternoon was over, and I was winding down for the evening, Mari gently called my name. "Grae," she was saying, "turn on this DVD and your thighs will instantly shrink three inches. No, seriously. I know a guy. He can make it happen. So just insert the disk, plumpy."

What followed inspired and excited me. It also had next to nothing to do with traditional pilates.

Let's start with the music. This makes or breaks a video. I've seen everything from dated electronica better suited for inspirational commercials than workouts, or even slutty bass-slapping music that made me feel like a puritan. Anyway, this video had three nice-looking Jamaican men playing bongos. I know they were Jamaican because they were wearing jams, breezy shirts, and had dreadlocks. That's like, their national uniform, right? Those men played spectacularly, speeding up when we turned up the heat, and even inserting careful rhythms to help us out with steps. They also seemed to have an excellent rapport with Mari, especially when she said "Papa was a rolling stone, right, everyone?" for no reason, and they winked and laughed at her. Must have been a personal joke.

The steps. Oh, the steps. I began a mere woman, and quickly blossomed into a scaldingly hot dancer. I was tightening my tummy as I glided across the Treehouse floor, shaking my ass, and Pilatsa-ing like a pro. I was doing the Seduction Walk, Pacing, Mermaiding, and making the magic happen. Tons of magic.

Let's shatter the fantasy here, for just a second. I looked like a fucking retard and was glad there are no large mirrors in my house. Thank you Feng Shui, you have saved my pride once again.

Okay, back to the dream. I lost inches, weight, the slight redness around my nose, and basically every other flaw I could count about myself. Just like that. You won't even recognize me the next time we see each other. I will be wearing a slinky dress with spike heels and I will have long, silky hair tied in a bun. And a rose in my teeth. Ole!

press play. g