Fat Albert Takes Aquacise Class with the Golden Girls

Out of nine lives, I spent seven
Now, how in the world do you get to Heaven?
Oh, you don't know the shape I'm in- The Band (Richard Manual lead vocal)

Over the last seven years, my weight has had more swings than an epileptic day-trader who mainlines crystal meth. Up a 100 down 80. Up 120. Etc. I am not going to bore you to tears with I lost weight doing x stories. Just some funny ante- dotes.

A week ago, a friend and I began, on the "buddy system", the "Louis Farrakhan Diet".
As you know I will not reveal our friend's name because it violates the legal code of ethics. Just know that he wishes in the future to be called "Not So Big Daddy".

Now you may be wondering; "What is the Louis Farrakhan Diet?"

Basically, you don't count calories, or anything like that. You just look at the food and say to yourself one thing: "If it's white, you know it ain't right."
So, sugar, flour, bread etc. are out.

If this works out, we plan on approaching the Minister of Hate and pitch a diet book. We would have screwy Louie Farrakhan on the cover with me and our friend, all three of us wearing Bow ties and Fez hats.

A key component of the Farrakhan plan is exercise. But I am so garbage, even basic stuff that everyone on this email can do causes my knees to swell larger than Jerry Lewis's head was a couple of years ago.

So its into a swimming pool for now. Ah, the pool, where there is no stress on the joints. If it were up to me, every street in NYC would be filled with 4 feet of water, and I would walk from Seeley Street to Washington Heights three times a week.

Since I am a long time member of the YMCA (not like I have been using the thing, I am the anti-Cal Ripken) I saw they have an aquacise class three nights a week. Perfect for a fella in my current situation.

So last night, I made my aquacise debut. I get to the pool and look in. Its filled with elderly women. By elderly, I mean each one would be able to tell me exactly where they were when the Japanese bombed Peal Harbor. They all sent a salami to their boy in the army. And the music. Helen Reddy "I Am Woman" blared from somewhere.

After confirming with the life guard that this indeed was the aquacise class (if it wasn't and I entered the pool, I may am have been violating federal hate crimes statutes) I quickly decided I was in no current position to not join in.

So I jumped in, which in and of itself caused such a Hawaii Five-O type wave, I half expected Jack Lord to show up in the pool so I would not be the only guy, or the only human being in the pool who did not vote for Mayor LaGuardia.

Although, I was the only guy, I was doing great. The female instructor was outside the pool, on the edge, barking out instructions: "turn this way! "run in place!" etc. I was gaining confidence, cause whenever I looked around, I was keeping up with this pool full of Bea Arthurs.

It was educational. It was fun. And I was doing great. Right? Wrong. All of a sudden, the instructor singles me out and yells "Don't worry sir, you will get handle on this eventually". That was the first of many digs. "Honey next time it will be easier" and the worst one: You don't have to do this one if you don't want to."

I could die. I swear I was keeping up. I felt like telling her "Martha Washington to my left here is not doing the breast stroke, she is having an actual stroke, why don't you focus on her"?

At the same time she was hurling insults at me like she was Bill Parcells and I was a kicker who just missed an extra point, the music keep blaring. Every song, I mean every song, was an anthem to women hood: I Will Survive, It's Raining Men, She's a Lady and of course, I'm Every Woman.

At that point, I had an Epiphany: This Femi-Nazi instructor wants this hour to be an all Golden Girl's Revue. Why else would she f**k with me so hard? Why was no other guy there? Why was every song an ode to/for women?

But you know what, I'm not gonna let her bully my fat ass out of the pool. I'm going to be the Rosa Parks of the Thursday Night Aquacise class.

So if want to see me suffer unspeakable abuse at the hands of a Femi-Nazi and in front of a pool -full of octogenarians , come to the YMCA pool next Thursday night. I won't be hard to spot.