Me and Richard Simmons, Sittin' in a Tree…

I am seriously stuck in the 80′s.

I don't rollerblade, I roller skate.  At a rink.  In my own bright-white skates with purple wheels and laces.  (I know that sounds 70′s, but for me the craze extended well into the 80′s.)

The main decoration in my kitchen is a wall of old metal lunchboxes, and the best of the bunch is a Knight Rider lunchbox.  I can look to my left right now and see this image of David Hasselhoff staring back at me:

The above isn't the one in my actual kitchen — here's how the real one looks among its peers:

The last concerts I went to?  Duran Duran and George Michael.

The movies and TV shows I quote on a regular basis?  All 80′s, and I quote them as if they're as much on the tips of everyone else's tongues as they are on mine.

So when I heard Richard Simmons was actively teaching aerobics classes in Los Angeles, I knew I had to go.  I expected pure kitsch, especially when I heard the name of his studio: Slimmons Studio.

Oh hell yes.

I met a girlfriend at the studio last Saturday, and was ecstatic from the minute I walked in the door.  The lobby is covered in Richard memorabilia.  Not just the requisite Sweatin' to the Oldies tapes (pretty sure they were actually VHS), but also buttons — ridiculously huge buttons, keychains, and every other imaginable trinket emblazoned with his smiling face.  I had forgotten to bring a workout towel, and thank heavens I did, because it gave me the perfect excuse to purchase one featuring a giant-size picture of… yup… Richard Simmons' face.  It came in pink and blue.  My girlfriend went with the blue, I chose pink:

Before the Saturday aerobics class, Richard does a motivational seminar.  I had to use the bathroom before class, which meant I had to walk through the seminar.  My plan was to skulk in, so I wouldn't interrupt.  I wasn't even planning to look at Richard — I'd save that for the class.

I was halfway to the bathroom when he called me out:  "HI!"

I was embarrassed for all of a split second, because once I looked at him, I was nothing but happy.  He looks the same as he always did.  The poofy hair's a little thinner, he's clearly older than the image in my head from the 80′s, but really, he looks the same.

And he was wearing a bright pink tank top covered with rhinestone spangles.  And tiny shorts.  And flesh-colored tights.

Awesome.

He asked me what was in my gym bag, and I said it was a book, and he asked what book, and I pulled out my fellow Debutante Ball blogger Eleanor Brown's The Weird Sisters and plugged it hard, but he had already launched into a monologue about a Michael Connelly book he was reading, and the way he always has to write every character name down in the front flap of a book so he remembers it.

I ducked out of the conversation and into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, Richard cranked the 70′s music, and people packed the class, jumping and kicking and bouncing in ways that would make Jane Fonda swoon.  I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.  The music was fantastic, and it was impossible not to love watching Richard dance, scream at all of us, and mug for the woman taping him with her videophone.

I was singing along and loving it from the start, but the third song in I knew I was in heaven.  It was YMCA, and Richard pulled a vest and hard hat over his workout clothes.  This was only the first of many costume changes, including boxing gloves for No More Tears (Enough is Enough),  a black dress for I-can't-remember-which-song, and Groucho nose and glasses for the Just the Way You Are cooldown.

No stand-up comedian has as solid an act as Richard Simmons.  He has his bits down, and he nails every one.  When we started with arm weights, he said (shouted — he's always shouting) toning was vital, and asked, "Do you want to be jell-o, or do you want to be rock-hard polenta?"

"I want to be rock-hard!" a man in the middle of the room called out.

There is no way I can properly convey the perfection of Richard's take at that point.  I guarantee some guy shouts that at nearly every class.  I don't mean the guy was a plant — I once had a friend who was a master magician, and he played the crowd so well, he'd make you say the perfect set-up, even though you'd swear it was your own original thought.

After 45 minutes of high-impact aerobics and 30 minutes of toning, class was over, and Richard posed for pictures.  Even that, he has down to a science.  He told people how to pose, and from what I saw on Google Images, he's been posing people the same way forever.  That's not a complaint — it totally works.  Check it out:

Awesome, right?

Here's the thing, though… for all the kitsch, Richard Simmons kicked my ass!

I'm no hardbody, but I'm in decent shape.  I run marathons, I do hard-core interval training… and I could barely keep up!  Yes, the class is made so everyone can work at their own level, but there was no way I could listen to that music and not go all out.  At the very least, I wanted to keep up with Richard himself, who bounces like a maniac, while singing, while screaming, while executing a comedy routine, and while changing clothes a gazillion times over.  I mean come on, he's 62!  His class couldn't be that hard, right?

But it was brutal.  In the best way.  My girlfriend had the same stunning experience, and she's in great shape (Richard even told her so during class, which made her day).  Moreover, when he gave his sermon at the end of class about seizing every single hour of your life because each moment is precious and we have no idea how special each one of us is… it was inspiring.  My girlfriend almost cried.  After class, she and I immediately declared a pilgrimage to Slimmons Studio would be a once-a-month outing for us.

I can't wait until December.