Last January I invested in a kickboxing tape out of a combination of dedication to rebuild my legs, which had been stripped of muscle from an illness the prior year,

and a sudden onset of utter stupidity.

The tape, which won all manner of awards the year it came out (2009) is done with great professionalism by supreme kickboxing expert Ilaria Montagnani. She is simply fantastic, and the instruction is very clear. The tape deserves all the awards it got. It wasn’t easy to find online and in fact, was pricey.

Worth every penny.

Since that time, when not subjecting myself to extreme yoga on my living room floor, I have endeavored to learn the complex strikes, kicks and punching routines in her tape.

Let’s be clear here.

I’m 64.

My big brother got the grace genes in the family.

It simply does not matter how many times I watch the damned tape, there are certain moves my body cannot sort out. I find myself teetering and tottering like a dyslexic camel.

Add to this the fact that a few weeks ago I installed a rather expensive awning on my deck, which happens to provide the perfect view into my living room.

So here’s my idea.

Set up chairs on the deck. Provide popcorn. Let the neighbors watch the reality show in the sweet shade now provided by said very expensive awning.

Old lady attempts kickboxing.

I’ll even allow them to watch me stretch out on top of one of those evil roller tubes, the kind with bumps? The kind that make you scream when you roll over your T-band? (T-band: that uber-tight band of muscle along the outer thigh)

That one.

I’ll charge extra for the stretch routine. Torture comes at a high price these days.

The awning will be paid off in no time.

I might even be able to buy another kickboxing tape.