The trainer is Jillian Michaels who, according to the introduction, stars in the show “The Biggest Loser” which I have never seen and never will. My TV viewing time is severely limited as it is and anything that remotely smacks of reality goes down to the bottom of the heap for me. I get enough reality in my real life. I popped the dvd in and braced myself. If her muscular nostrils and angry eyezbowz are any indication of how fierce a trainer she is, I’m already scared. The good thing is that each set of exercises or circuits are only a few minutes long (three or two or one depending on the level) so the end of each always seems near. The bursts of movement are mixed up to keep it interesting and there are two minions behind her to follow: the buff, hard-core athletic one and the equally buff, hard-core athletic one with the slightly modified versions for the rest of us. The bad thing is that there is no downtime at all. No moment to catch your breath, to stretch, to quench your Sahara-like thirst.
Thus far, the only things that feel shredded are my lungs.
- do jumping jacks downstairs where the 100 year old support beams maybe be sturdier than the ones on the second level.
- wait until everyone is out of the house so as to avoid feeling self-conscious when the house starts shuddering more than I am and when you can hear my labored breathing in the farthest reaches of the house.
- wear sneakers during the workout so as not to lose your already precarious balance and slip on the Persian carpet and bloody it up with your cracked and empty skull.
So, thirty day shred means once every thirty days, right?