Jazzercise!

When you think of Jazzercise, you probably think of this: 

And who could blame you for wanting to think about it? Those ladies are hot stuff. Do you think they were on cocaine? It was 1984 or so. The women were probably 99% cocaine. 

If you're not familiar with Jazzercise? It was your mom's or grandma's equivalent of Zumba. 

Unfortunately, when you go to Jazzercise on Aurora, you will see zero ladies in leotards and tights and absolutely no cocaine in the bathroom. I looked. There is, however, childcare, if you need it.

The fellow exercisers were mostly over-50-year olds who might've been Jazzercising since the golden days of drug-fueled workout mania. People trickled in, but there were at least 25 people in the class. Shortly, I would find out why it was so popular. 

Everyone came because our class was led by a very, very high-energy woman named Jennifer who looked just like Kristen Wiig. Or Kristen Wiig playing an aerobics instructor. OK, I was in the very back of the room and my eye-prescription might need to be updated, but really, she looked and sounded like her. I wish I could've taken a photo for you.

Jennifer acted the part of a DJ who introduced her over-50-year old audience to new tunes -- "This is Bieber, guys." "This is Christina Aguilera, everyone." She would recite lyrics while doing coordinated arm and leg movements. None were dirty, but I would almost pay to hear her use Minaj's "Anaconda" in Jazzercise because she would kill it. 

After the first 15 minutes of patter, she really stepped up the pace, and at that point, I aimed for an approximation of the arm and leg movements. I still don't know what "chauncey" means, or what my feet were supposed to do in coordination with that word. The choreography wasn't very difficult, but people nearby started giving me lots of room, not because they were nice, but afraid of getting hurt. 

Jennifer was also equal parts sarcasm-fueled entertainer. At one point halfway through the class, a woman handed her a paper towel. "Am I grossing you out with all my sweat?" Jennifer asked, taking the towel and wiping down her face. "Am I spraying you with my sweat? You guys decide where to stand and you don't have to stand in the front. Stand in the front, you might get a little extra shower." 

At this point, I wanted to stand right in front of Jennifer. Because she's sort of awesome. I might bring a towel though.

Two nice older Jazzercisers introduced themselves to me and asked if it was my first time. One wore a headband, which only seemed like a bad idea from the 1980s until sweat started running into my eyes.

I had wanted to be snarky about it all, because perhaps I'm a terrible person. I actually had a lot of fun. Yet Jazzercise still seems like something I'd be afraid to mention in casual conversation; something akin to revealing a secretive secret.  "I'm a day drinker, run guns from my suburban basement AND I JAZZERCISE ON AURORA." 

Two days later, I'm in a lot of pain, particularly buttpain. Why? I don't remember anything happening to my butt. That's just what happens when you Jazzercise on Aurora, I guess. 

Some of those 60-year-old ladies were far fitter than I am. So while you might make fun of Jazzercise, you might then try it, or at least the one on Aurora on weekday mornings when Jennifer is teaching. 


Jazzercise Seattle Studio
Address: 10303 Aurora Ave N, Seattle, WA 98133
Phone: (206) 298-5377
Web: http://jcls.jazzercise.com/facility/jazzercise-seattle-fitness-center
Cost: $15/class