She's a looker, yeah, she's got it made
AMAZING BODIES IN GLEEMONEX HISTORY: PART I
Not my body, I mean -- I just randomly thought of this person the other day (maybe inspired by the tights on one of Me At 13's dance outfits? who knows what pulls these thoughts out of the murk in the tarn of my brain ...). And I thought I'd share.
When I was in high school, I went to aerobics class three or four times a week at a gym just off the courthouse square (so like 6 blocks from my house -- I drove there, of course, because what kind of a no-car-having LOSER walks anywhere, GOD!!!). There were a couple of different teachers, but the one with the most amaaaazing body was Frieda H., my cool cousin's friend, who at that time was in her ... mid-to-late twenties, maybe 26 or 27?, and the mother of two young children.
Frieda had awesome Warrant-video-girlfriend blonde hair, big and teased and best suited for lolling about on the hoods of cars in front of cameras. And trust me, in the late 80s, that hair was HOTTT. It was what we were all trying to do, and failing to various degrees. She was no taller than me -- so 5'5" or thereabouts -- but she seemed downright Venusian, six-two at least. She showed up to class in full makeup, always, and it never ran or streaked. She wore immaculate hi-top Ryka sneakers, the shoe of choice for aerobic instructors, with socks of a perfect scrunchiness and hue peeking out the tops. But as bawss as the upper and lower extremities of Frieda were, it was the middle part that was the most amazing.
Slim, powerful, compact, not an ounce of fat on her, unless you count her perfect, perfect boobs (adorable round 100% factory original B-cups with no post-market adjustments). There wasn't even any line across her shimmery shiny paint-splash-printed thong leotard where her shimmery shiny fuchsia tights ended. O wait did I just mention the thong leotards? Because holy shit yeah, THONG LEOTARDS. Astonishingly high v-cuts in the front, well past the hipbones and up to about the third rib, that made her legs look like metal alloy Space Age sculptures, reaching for the sky. In the back, the thong revealed the most eye-popping pair of buns in all of humanity -- smooth, curved, free of any pock, ripple or mushiness, powerful (christ she did an hour's worth of 180bpm maniac shit on a TWELVE-INCH STEP BENCH, three times a week) but not showing any obvious muscle. It was ... a thing of beauty.
You'd watch those buns, pistoning away up at the front of the room, as you shuffled along trying to keep up on your lame 6-inch step (or an 8 if you were showing off or old ladies grabbed all the sixes cause they got there first), and think to yourself "ehhhhgaaaaaaah I'm dying." I mean, you don't have a lot of deep thoughts during step aerobics. But then twenty-five years later you're like -- goddamn, Frieda, that was a world-class set of buns. I salute you, and your whole thing you had going there, and I do hope you enjoyed living in that body as much as we all enjoyed a-lookin' at it. Mahalo!
Not my body, I mean -- I just randomly thought of this person the other day (maybe inspired by the tights on one of Me At 13's dance outfits? who knows what pulls these thoughts out of the murk in the tarn of my brain ...). And I thought I'd share.
When I was in high school, I went to aerobics class three or four times a week at a gym just off the courthouse square (so like 6 blocks from my house -- I drove there, of course, because what kind of a no-car-having LOSER walks anywhere, GOD!!!). There were a couple of different teachers, but the one with the most amaaaazing body was Frieda H., my cool cousin's friend, who at that time was in her ... mid-to-late twenties, maybe 26 or 27?, and the mother of two young children.
Frieda had awesome Warrant-video-girlfriend blonde hair, big and teased and best suited for lolling about on the hoods of cars in front of cameras. And trust me, in the late 80s, that hair was HOTTT. It was what we were all trying to do, and failing to various degrees. She was no taller than me -- so 5'5" or thereabouts -- but she seemed downright Venusian, six-two at least. She showed up to class in full makeup, always, and it never ran or streaked. She wore immaculate hi-top Ryka sneakers, the shoe of choice for aerobic instructors, with socks of a perfect scrunchiness and hue peeking out the tops. But as bawss as the upper and lower extremities of Frieda were, it was the middle part that was the most amazing.
Slim, powerful, compact, not an ounce of fat on her, unless you count her perfect, perfect boobs (adorable round 100% factory original B-cups with no post-market adjustments). There wasn't even any line across her shimmery shiny paint-splash-printed thong leotard where her shimmery shiny fuchsia tights ended. O wait did I just mention the thong leotards? Because holy shit yeah, THONG LEOTARDS. Astonishingly high v-cuts in the front, well past the hipbones and up to about the third rib, that made her legs look like metal alloy Space Age sculptures, reaching for the sky. In the back, the thong revealed the most eye-popping pair of buns in all of humanity -- smooth, curved, free of any pock, ripple or mushiness, powerful (christ she did an hour's worth of 180bpm maniac shit on a TWELVE-INCH STEP BENCH, three times a week) but not showing any obvious muscle. It was ... a thing of beauty.
You'd watch those buns, pistoning away up at the front of the room, as you shuffled along trying to keep up on your lame 6-inch step (or an 8 if you were showing off or old ladies grabbed all the sixes cause they got there first), and think to yourself "ehhhhgaaaaaaah I'm dying." I mean, you don't have a lot of deep thoughts during step aerobics. But then twenty-five years later you're like -- goddamn, Frieda, that was a world-class set of buns. I salute you, and your whole thing you had going there, and I do hope you enjoyed living in that body as much as we all enjoyed a-lookin' at it. Mahalo!
Labels: life is beautiful, rando, respek knuckles, surprises in the attic, things that are great, where is my mind? waaay out there on the water -- see it swimming
posted by Gleemonex at 12:30 PM
2 Comments:
you must've been reading my mind because i was thinking the same thing about my first dance instructor (rhonda rocket, real name, no joke). she must've been around the same age with crazy tawny kitaen hair and a 20 inch waist and perfect bod in A THONG LEO. and she was gorgeous. and never wore her hair pulled back (it was a rule for us). and of course, she married young and had two little ones and had the body she had when she was probably 16. i always wonder what she looks like now (probably still perfect).
No doubt! And you know, about the name Rhonda: If that's your name, you're going to be pursuing a fitness and/or cheer-related career. My best tennis coach was named Rhonda. It's a thing.
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