She Pushes Good Plow
I also secretly love plomping around on those big bouncy balls. I'm very serious on it, doing my crunches and whatnot, but in my head I'm going "BOUNCY BOUNCY BOUNCY!"
You should see me doing the weights. I always wear my hair up in a big shmatta and I look very Eastern European peasant-chic, grunting away. I can hear my great-grandfather say in his thick Slovak accent, "She pushes good plow."
(I don't think he ever actually said that, but it makes me laugh)
My great-grandma Anna Billo was a big, hefty lady with upper arms the size of my thighs who lived past 100 on a steady diet of pierogies and Tasty-Cakes (or maybe she just kept them in the house for us). I don't have the genes to be a slimmy gal but I can be, in the immortal words of Stephen Billo, "strong like ox."
(By the way, I would NEVER wear a leotard with yellow tights. I would never wear a leotard, period. People, it's 2005. We have cute boot cut yoga pants now! It's called progress!)