I teach several fitness classes at the Kansas City Country Club.  It’s very ooh-la-la.  Very posh.  Very upscale.   It’s a virtual who’s-who of movers and shakers throughout the KC metro.  When I started teaching there, I immediately assumed I’d have to tone down my “essence” (which has since replaced “overwhelming effusiveness”).  Boy, was I wrong.  The clients there love me.  They lavish me with praise, gifts, treats and pats on the head.  

Perhaps they think I’m a lapdog.   Dunno. 

My early morning classes are usually jam-packed … which means more than 10 people.  But they get up and listen to my usual shtick of bad puns for 45 minutes while I kick their respective asses.  Anymore, I’m starting to throw caution to the wind at the KCCC.  For instance, I played Motley Crue the other day.  No one’s head exploded.  No one complained.  But, believe me, they aren’t shy about telling me what they do and don’t like.  Poor Irene Cara and Justin Timberlake – they’ve both been banned from my play list because their music is “irritating”.  

Everyone is chummy – very respectful of each other.  It’s refreshing.  I suppose when you’re a muckety-muck, it’s an unwritten law you have to be pleasant to other muckety-mucks.  It’s the circle of muck or something.  

The best part about teaching at KC’s Country Club?  Not only do I get to share all my stories, I get to hear what they’re up to!  Take, for instance, John Spangler and Mina Steen.  They’ve been friends since – well – Eisenhower was in office.  And they recently went to their high school reunion alongside their respective spouses.  Of course, I commented they would be the fittest folks there.  John is ridiculously strong.  Strap a couch on to his back and he could be a sherpa through the Himalayas.  Mina, meanwhile, has those crazy-ripped arms like Madonna or Linda Hamilton in “Terminator II”.  Of course, I’d like to think they owe their bods to me – but I think it has something to do with clean living. 

They typically laugh the hardest at my jokes and don’t mind being picked on occasionally.  While John has good form in class, he has NO rhythm.  I can’t even watch him out of the corner of my eye – lest I get sidetracked.  He marches to the beat of his own drum – which is apparently about two seconds ahead of everyone else.   Funny thing is … all the men in class follow his lead.  I think they do it on purpose.  No guy can be THAT white. 

For my BDay, Mina brought in a platter of chewy raspberry oatmeal bars.  Literally – a platter like you’d get at a hotel when they bring breakfast in bed.  She served everyone and then had everyone write a little note about how effus … er, about my essence.  On top of that, she then proceeded to read the class a poem she wrote about me.  How sweet.  

Mercifully, she did not let John read it … he has the cadence of a newborn baby.