Sugar Rush

I never outgrew sugary cereals. Every morning I say to myself, "Self, it would be very good to have Special K for breakfast this morning." But Self disagrees. Self wants Lucky Charms or, if I'm really having a blessed day, Apple Jacks. Self usually wins, and then I must punish Self by making us do Cardioke for an hour. (Okay, 20 minutes...I'm no Suzanne Sommers, gimme a break).

And yes, there really is such a thing as cardioke. I discovered it on Cox's On Demand channel. It's a special combination of cardio exercise and karaoke singing which allows me to use two of my lesser talents at once, for a truly scary sight. One or the other of those things is usually enough of a challenge for me. I do okay with cardio until it gets dance-y, then my lack of coordination starts working against me. It generally goes something like this:

(The truly brave-hearted can take a moment here to visualize me standing in my living room exercising in front of the TV):

Me: Okay, step touch, step touch, I got this. Why does she keep saying left and moving right?

Aerobic Goddess with six-pack and buns of steel: Let's add in some arms.

Me: Uh-oh. Okay, focus. Step touch, arms out, step touch, arms in. This doesn't look quite like what they're doing.

Aerobic Goddess with six-pack and buns of steel: Adding a new step here, grapevine...and go!

Me: Grapevine, what's that? Step, cross, step, heel. Wow, the girl in the back really puts a flair into it with those hips, doesn't she? Step, heel, cross, oops... (trip, fall back onto couch, be grateful, once again, that I'm doing this in the privacy of my own home).

My karaoke's even worse. I have a range of about 5 notes, and even Paula Abdul would have to concede that I'm "a little pitchy". Worse yet, I have singing enthusiasm. So, basically, I sing five notes, off-key, but with enthusiasm - a deadly combination.

It should be obvious, then, that Cardioke was a natural choice for me. The chance to be able to trip over my own two feet while singing "It's your thing...do what you wanna do" at the top of my lungs is priceless. It wasn't so bad when my kids were at school and I exercised in peace, but now that my flailing has an audience of four, it's worse. I mean, it can be really hard to hear what the Goddess is saying with everyone laughing so hard.

Come to think of it, they say that laughter can burn up to 40 calories a day. There's a chance my kids may be getting a better workout than me.