My Landlord Wants Me To Get Fat

How could anyone try to take me away from this?!

It goes something like this: I'm at home, turning on the DVD player to get jazzed up for Paula Abdul's Get Up and Dance (Artemis Home Entertainment, 1994) low-intensity workout, and two minutes into walking across the floor into a heels-off-the-ground-half-twist my landlord comes knocking on the door to ruin my fun.

"Um, is there something going on in here?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm getting exercise--doing a dance video," I explain.

"Oh. How often do you do that?"

Couldn't he just get to the point?

"Maybe once, twice a week," I answer.

On and on it went, until he said something like: "Well, if you keep doing this, then the floors will start to creak, and then you'll come and ask me to fix the floors, and I don't have a lot of money to do all that. You guys are always coming to ask me to fix stuff," (*stuff being the heater, a mold problem--surely we shouldn't bother him with those things!).

Did you catch any logic there? Regardless, the floors have been creaking since I moved in a year and a half ago; I've done Paula's dance routine only five time in the past three weeks! I'm still trying to deduce the real reason that Mr. To doesn't want me to do a dance workout, something that's good for my heart and all, in a living room that sits atop an empty garage. He didn't mention that the noise was an issue for anyone, so there has to be something else going on in his mind. Any guesses??!! I need YOUR help!

Until I muster up the courage to challenge his demands that I stop, I'll continue eating and cooking, being forced to watch the pounds settle back on because my principal heart-healthy joy has been taken away. (Some may say that being forced off of the 90s aerobics scene, and Ms. Abdul's music, might be a good thing, but I disagree.) Every minute less dancing to a remix of "Promise of a New Day" shall be a minute more of me cooking in the kitchen. Last night, chocolate-Grand Marnier cookies, today spoonfuls of peanut butter and Mozarts (the candy), tomorrow, cheesecake and chocolate éclairs! To compensate for my poor snacking habits, I tried to cook myself a healthy and reliable standby: stir-fried shrimp and baby broccoli in an orange-hoisin sauce. Not bad, but not the same as dancing along with Paula and the gang, either.

No more Paula! I can't dance, so I'll just have to eat healthy instead. Broccoli's got lots of vitamins C, K and A, right? Shrimp's not too bad either, save the cholesterol.