Sweatin' to the Oldies

As a paunchy, full-faced little brown girl, Richard Simmons saw me before there were Dove campaigns, body positivity, books, and plus-size models graced magazines—he saw me. In 1988, he released the first volume of Sweatin' to the Oldies. It featured a live band playing Dancing In The Streets, Beyond The Sea, On Broadway, It's My Party, Peggy Sue, Great Balls of Fire, Wipe Out, He's A Rebel, Personality, and Ain't No Mountain High Enough. And I'd belt out those lyrics with the confidence of a boomer who had just refinanced her home and returned to the dating scene ready to get back out there. It was my first time seeing real people in the same sentence as fitness. They were black and white, heavy and skinny, short and tall. Some wore workout gear, and others wore jeans and overalls. The vigorous thigh rubbage alone is a reason to avoid working out in jeans, but I digress. They all encouraged each other and seemed to have the time of their lives. It wasn't contrived or staged. As cheesy as it sounds, Richard Simmons seemed to care about every person in that room and those watching from home. And watched, I did, for 36 years and counting. Talk about comfort shows. This is my comfort workout. I know all the songs and moves before he gets to them. And sometimes, I even call out his lines to direct and encourage the class as if they can hear me. When I was barely 20, in my very first apartment, I'd prop my god-baby up on the couch with pillows surrounding her while I did my workout tape. Through labored breaths (Yes, I said labored breath! Don't play Richard; you can work up a good sweat!) I'd talk to her about my relationship problems - babysitting with a side of free therapy. Her head spread nearly to her shoulders on each side, and her smile would seemingly span across her entire gorgeous little brown chunky face. And I felt reassured that things were gonna be alright. At 40, an instant smile unfurls when the video opens with a close-up of his foot tapping. The moves and songs effortlessly come to me, and I find myself transported into the wallpapered living room of my childhood home. I can still look up and see my mother and sometimes my aunt beside me. It reminds me of my time with the women who mean the most to me. It's a warm, fuzzy, sweaty sweetness that never loses its flavor or allure. It's a space where I feel seen. May we find people in person and from afar who make us feel seen and more full of ourselves—folks whose weirdness compliments our own.

Goodies

Body+: Life, Love & Weight Loss Pregnant Pause: Do I have Low Self-Esteem? Cravings: Can I Get a Proposal?? Flo(w): Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice