Open Letter to the Hip Hop Teacher

Dear Hip Hop Teacher Who Keeps Changing Her Name (what is that about anyway?):

I love your Wednesday night hip-hop class, really, I do. But seriously, it is Thursday afternoon now and it feels more like I had a hip replacement. Your choreography is fluid, there are not too many steps in the combinations, although it did take me a few weeks to understand that when you yelled out "Combo 1" it did not mean that I was getting a Big Mac and large fries.

However, women my age do not need to be encouraged to "drop it low" unless you are going to offer to pick it up. Lady, my stuff seems to be dropping low all on it’s own these days, so how about I drop it medium and let the rest just hang? Because last night I tried to drop it low. And now, I really hurt.

Nevertheless, your class is a lot of fun– I enjoy watching you get all crazy-eyed looking at yourself in the mirror, wishing you were on the main stage. I like most of your song selections. Most of them. But, listen... I do not need to hear about what a "big, fine lady" I "is" when I "back that thang up" while you have me poppin’ and lockin’ it all over the YMCA. Totally not a confidence booster. Just sayin’.


Maybe it is my fault I feel like this. I know you gym folks like to tell people to "listen to your body". But let’s be serious a minute– if I listened to my body, I would be 600 pounds, living off of deep fried foods on sticks and taking mass DNA tests on Maury Povich, who probably had to pry the roof off my house and lift me out with a crane to get me on his show. My body says EAT it.  My body says OOOH yeah, girl, he is hot!  My body NEVER says to "drop it low."

So maybe next week, you can stick to the "yeah, shake it!" –I think mine is still shaking, by the way. Maybe you can do without the dropping lows and the songs about big women? Maybe you can skip the splits at the end? If not, next time I blog about you, I'm namin' names.
Yours truly,
Big fine lady on the back row