My journey into the world of aerobics began at the tender age of 13 or 14, when I acquired a Jane Fonda exercise record. I was captivated by her vibrant persona, her colorful tights, and legwarmers. I didn’t grasp why my babysitter’s mother disapproved of her; my mom explained it had something to do with the Vietnam War.
In my mauve-hued room adorned with Laura Ashley wallpaper, I would play the record and bounce around in front of my goldfish, Goldie and Fred. I like to think they danced along with me. Unfortunately, four years later, when I went to college, my family neglected my little aquatic friends.
I soon transitioned to a local aerobics studio called “FitZone,” which was within walking distance. I had the quintessential leotard, a purple one purchased from a department store. My outfit was completed with Reebok high-tops, shiny soccer shorts, and a touch of blue eyeliner paired with Revlon’s Silver City Pink lipstick.
Aerobics became a significant part of my life for many years, despite not being inherently athletic. While I excelled in swimming, I was too shy to compete. Aerobics gave me the confidence I needed. In college, I planned my schedule around the fitness classes offered at the student center. During summer breaks, my parents didn’t understand my frustration when I missed classes due to work commitments. My brother and I shared a car, and his late shifts often meant I couldn’t make it to the gym. On occasion, I’d persuade a coworker to drive me home, even if it meant going out of their way. If I got back in time, I could use my mom’s car for class.
However, in my late 20s or early 30s, life’s realities took precedence, and my relationship with aerobics began to fade. The purple leotard became a distant memory, much like Jane and my fish. I was now dealing with the complexities of divorce and rebuilding my life.
Recently, a friend encouraged me to join her for a Jazzercise class. Walking into the studio felt nostalgic, with familiar sights like the energetic instructor and a room mostly filled with women. The upbeat music filled the air, and the instructor’s motivating words reminded me of my past.
But I was different now. I carry a bit more weight, deal with a pinched nerve in my foot, and my knees often ache. The idea of slipping into a leotard is out of the question. After having twins at 40, my go-to outfit consists of old yoga pants and a T-shirt from a family reunion, ironically proclaiming, “Proud to Be Italian!” (A fact that many find hard to believe.)
There’s a special connection with first loves. In class, I felt a sense of belonging. I might not present an elegant figure while Jazzercising, but the joy I feel is undeniable. I’m more relaxed about attending classes now, appreciating the moments I can carve out from family and work. On days when I can’t make it, you’ll find me dancing in the kitchen, showcasing my new moves to my family.
Aerobics and I have rekindled our relationship. I opted out of the gym that I hardly visited and purchased a Jazzercise pass instead. I’m even contemplating refreshing my workout wardrobe—perhaps even picking up some new blue eyeliner! I’ve learned that Jane has released her exercise video on DVD again, which I’m eager to explore.
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Summary
This reflective piece chronicles a woman’s enduring admiration for Jane Fonda and her journey through aerobics from adolescence to adulthood. Despite life’s challenges and changes in her body, she finds joy in returning to fitness, highlighting the emotional connection and nostalgia associated with her first love for aerobics.