Yes, you read right. That there title says #21. If you will recall, I said this 30 Blog Challenge (I should stop calling it a challenge already. I lost that long ago) will have no deadline and no particular order. So, there! … That’s what I thought!
So, I’ve been trying to fit in my Jane Fonda every now and then. Ya know, do like Fergie and work on my fitness. Every time, Penny mistakes the sneakers and sports bra for walk-time and does that adorable dance where she wags her tail so hard her entire lower half looks like it’s well-versed in the salsa. She doesn’t think I’m jogging in place for my own benefit, but strictly to amp her up for the big W, as we refer to it in our household. So, she puts the salsa moves into high gear until it hits her that Mama ain’t goin’ nowhere.
Then, she just lays down in the hallway, sighs a big ol’ sigh and watches her mom five-six-seven-eight every last exercise motion she can remember.
Oh, I guess you should know that I do all this while pumping my iPod headphones loud enough that anyone within five feet can sing along.
So, I’ve got Nicki Minaj on blast and I go into a classic Jane Fonda move. It’s a floor exercise that involves pelvic thrusts on repeat. See the image below, if you will.
I’m doing these moves in perfect coordination with the beat. Up, down, up, down. Five-six-seven-eight-and-one … When, out of nowhere, Penny comes prancing in doing, not the salsa, but a dance I have NEVER in all my dog-owning years seen a dog do. She is wagging her tail, trying to stand on her hind legs and simultaneously humping the air all at once – in perfect rhythm to the beat. And getting uncomfortably close to her mother. If there was a doggy nightclub, it would’ve been the equivalent of Penny hearing her jam, rushing out to the dance floor and moving it like she had no problem making a baby right there. It was so … provocative.
All I could say was, “PENNY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? … STOP IT. NO, STOP IT. … I DON’T LIKE THIS!”
My dog got so hurt when she heard that. She slowly started for the hallway and turned back to look at me with those big “You don’t like my nasty go-ahead-and-get-yours dance” eyes. She went right back into the hallway, slumped down and tucked her head real low. I’m still not sure if it was an act of shame or one of rejection. Either way the whole thing was massively disturbing.
But, I got it over it. Cuz that’s what you do when beads of sweat are racing down your forehead and your heart rate’s right where you want it. I did some jumping jacks and the ol’ step ball chain for a minute and then went into another floor exercise that involved pelvic thrusts.
Watch out, y’all, her jam’s on again!
Here comes Penny wagging her tail, trying to stand and hump the air all at the same time again. She’s looking at me like, “Yeah, girlfriend! Let’s get this party started right!” Like she’s waiting for a Jack Russell Terrier to pop out of nowhere with shots and a limbo stick or something.
This time instead of scold, I just stared. I wanted to recount for Jake every “Up in Da Club” gyration, thrust, and naughty grind I witnessed. That lasted all of 10 seconds and then it was back to the scolding.
I couldn’t help but think about the sweater incident in which my family and friends swore up and down that our Pen Pen was *loud whisper* a trollop. Jake and I couldn’t see it for the life of us.
That, of course, made me think of a girl I went to junior high with who we nicknamed “Annie Mascarenas All I Want is Penis.” When I say “we” nicknamed her, I mean ME, yours truly, X. (Like I’m gonna pass up taking credit for that one!) Anyway, her madre and padre had NO clue their daughter was blowing little boys every day after school. They seriously thought she was an angel because she got good grades, went to Catechism and still insisted on sitting between them in the front seat of their Cadillac when they picked her up from school.
Dude. Are we just like Annie Mascarenas All I Want is Penis’ parents? We’re constantly saying Penny’s an angel. She never gets into the garbage, she doesn’t chew things and — oh my God — she insists on sitting between Jake and I on the love seat when we watch TV!
Ay dios mio.
Eh, who am I kidding? So, she likes to … dance. Look at this little girl! An angel, I tell you. A pure angel.