She's My Man! (Twitter & Jane & Scissor Sisters, OH MY)

Today I made several incredibly important discoveries, via the Interwebs. More specifically, via some tweets and twoots. I will now defend Twitter to my death, because thanks to it, I discovered the following in a matter of ten minutes.

1. The Scissor Sisters will be in Chicago September 2. (via @PasteMagazine)

2. Next, I randomly discover Jane Fonda is an active tweeter, thanks to some retweet I now can't find. (And we all know about my love for Jane, si?)

3. I promptly follow @Janefonda and fall even more in love. On July 5, she tweeted: "Scissor Sisters-amazing music. Really top notch. Great concert. Am in awe."

YES. I knew Jane was the coolest. I promise you, if Rene wasn't going to be arriving in K-hizzy in about an hour, right now I'd be doing the Jane Fonda workout while blaring Ta-Dah!

So for now, I'll just leave you with this:

Feminists at the Gym

Since I moved to Chicago in July 2008, my exercise life has been pretty pathetic. In fact, I've gone months at a time with it being completely non-existent. Yeah, I'd go on kicks once in awhile where I'd daydream about getting a gym membership, or I'd go for a walk, do my Jane Fonda or Cindy Crawford tape, or do Pilates twice a week in my living room. (My cats get really concerned when I pull out my Pilates mat. Usually one or both decides it's best to stretch out on it with me. It makes me a little uncomfortable.)

The only thing that saved me from losing all muscle definition whatsoever this past year was my job waiting tables. All that pacing around in circles when you don't have tables (cause of course you're not allowed to sit down!), running after customers, and carrying trays of beer and burgers actually does burn calories. In fact, after my first month of waiting tables, I actually lost weight. This of course balanced out right around the time I realized I could get a free beer after every shift. What, beer's not good for you? Go figure.

Anyway, now that I've quit my job waiting tables, I've realized how easy it would be to sit on my couch in my sweatpants all day, computer on lap, eating, and not working out, ever. Next thing I know, I finally get a job interview, and I have to wear said sweatpants, because no other clothes fit. Hiring manager takes one look at me and calls security. I go home, sit on the couch and eat an entire box of macaroni and cheese, cycle continues.

Good news. I also now have a gym membership and I've decided to use it. After a week of announcing that I would go to the gym, I finally did it today. And here's the thing: As soon as I walked into the gym I felt better. I got on an elliptical, played Bajofondo Tango Club on my iPod, and I was ready to rule the world. Seriously. Every time I work out, my mind clears, I feel happy and energetic, and I'm ready to apply for 5,000 jobs if that's what it takes for someone to realize how brilliant I am. And all it took was 45 minutes of my day.

I realize that what I'm saying is of no surprise to anyone, least of all me. I grew up doing Jane Fonda workout tapes with my mom, for chrissakes. I played sports from ages 5 to 17. I get it. Endorphins, health, yada yada yada. I KNOW that I feel better when I'm working out and eating right. So what the hell? Why don't I ever do it? Well, all that's changing now. It's 2010, and I'm almost 26-years-old. My metabolism isn't going to have a crush on me forever. Plus, at this time in my life, poor and job searching, what I need more than ever is the mental and physical boost I get from exercise.

Now, you might be wondering (if you haven't given up on reading already), why I'm talking in such detail about my exercise habits. In recent months, I've grown increasingly aware of the discussion of body image and fat hate in the feminist blogosphere. Both are important topics, and until now, I've completely ignored them here on the Rainbow chronicles, aside from my one previous post about trying to find motivation to exercise. To be honest, that's most likely due to the fact that those aren't the feminist issues that really get my blood boiling and make me want to write. To be really honest, it's a topic that I find difficult to write, for a number of reasons. For one, I don't always agree (EEK!) with the popular discussion on the issues. That's not to say that I don't think body image is an important concern—it is, whether you're a woman, man, feminist, whoever, it's important. That's also not to say that I don't think there is a major problem with discrimination of overweight people, or "fat hatred" in our culture—there is. So, what, then?

Wanted: Exercise Motivation for a Lazy, Poor, Beer Lover.

Please. Someone. Help.

In case you don't know me, I am said lazy, poor, beer lover. And I need to exercise. Apparently I only have five years left before my metabolism completely hits the shitter, my beer gut really becomes a beer gut, and my belly ring is officially 100 percent ridiculous. (I'd say now that I'm 25, it's currently at approximately a 75 percent ridiculousness level.)

Now, if you're over 3o and are reading this, please know I'm not trying to be insulting. It's just that all the exercise magazines I buy and read while laying on my couch eating pudding snacks tell me that in your 20's, your metabolism is at its peak. I decided completely on my own that my belly ring is pretty ridiculous at this point in time.

Yesterday I was walking down the beach by the lake, surrounded by all these lunatics jogging, running, rollerblading, bicycling, or playing sports. I panicked. Is this what other 20-somethings do while I lay around with my cats watching It's Always Sunny episodes?

I looked down at my pale, non-existent bicep and made my decision. "It's time to change my lifestyle," I thought. "Join the lunatics!"

Just then, I saw a sign: Chicago Boot Camp. Perfect! I'll take the plunge and be a joiner for once in my life. I'll get fit. I'll get motivated.

Then I looked closer at the sign. EVERY WEEKDAY AT 6 AM SHARP!

Fuuuuuuuuck.

Yet, for a brief moment, I envisioned myself running down the beach at 6 a.m., surrounded by like minded, motivated, healthy people. It was a great 20 second daydream.

Yeah, right. Like I'm going to get out of bed before the hour of six and run down the beach while some crazy trainer screams at me. I can't run. Let's be honest here: They're called boobs. It's not fun for me.

What am I going to do? Life was so much easier when I was forced to workout at the start of volleyball or softball season. I also had my 16-year-old metabolism working for me.

So. Clearly I'm not going to do boot camp. I can't afford a gym membership. However, I am a big fan of the workout tape, starting from back when I was about eight, doing Jane Fonda's Workout tape with my mom while Jay sat on the couch eating potato chips and making fun of us.

In recent years, I've upgraded to the workout DVDs, and have such marvels as the Self Bikini Ready Fast and Fat Burning Pilates (which I miraculously made it through today, as Mufasa sat on the couch and glared at me). Also, in one of my many moments of insanity, I bought a Crunch Cardio Dance Blast DVD, but after tripping over myself in my living room once or twice while trying to follow the foot movements and hip swivels, I admitted to myself that maybe "dance blast" wasn't the workout for me. The Bikini Ready fast is actually a great workout. The only problem is that I do it once, then my thighs hurt for an entire week and I don't exercise again for another month.

But TRUST, I still have my Jane Fonda VHS tape. To make it even cooler, it's a recorded VHS tape.

So. I have the workout materials. What's needed is the motivation. How do I get this motivation? Please advise.

In the meantime, check out Jane's leg warmers. What a babe!