Schadenfreude-light

I love my local thrift store. It’s a Mennonite-run shop that has been a fixture in our small town since I can remember.  It used to also be a Ten Thousand Villages “retailer,” and I’m still sad that it isn’t anymore. Most of my college-years Christmas shopping was done there, because of A) the uniqueness of the gifts, and B) the cheapness. I’d make the drive to come shopping for handcrafted candlesticks and baskets and boxes, many of which are still around today in the homes of my friends and family.

But now, the entire place is dedicated to reselling donated items, and the kids and I take a walk there regularly in the summer. There’s really not anything we ever need: this is our quasi-anti-consumerist version of “retail therapy.” The other day, the boy found some Spider Man web-shooter light bracelet thingy in the quarter bin, and he has been shooting us with red light webs ever since. There’s no way a 30-minute-each-way trip to Target can have that sort of return on investment.

Anyway, to the point of this post, my Shadenfreude. I was thinking about trying to make a nifty vinyl record bowl, so I started flipping through the bins with records in them. I quickly forgot about my quest for a bowl-making record when I saw this:

That’s right, I found a record of Christian aerobics set to Christian music. A record with two Christian women in matching striped leotards and legwarmers. When I saw this in the bin, I let forth a guffaw, and quickly clutched it to my chest with glee. This record is so deliciously 1982, I had to make it mine. Never mind that I don’t have a record player, and may never hear B.J Thomas’ version of “The Unclouded Day” or “His Name is Jesus” sung by the incomparable Al Green. I love this album. 

I love that while firming the buttocks, one would be listening to “Hearts Made of Stone.” * I also love that in the 16-page instruction booklet, there is an exercise called “Hydrants,” wherein one is on all fours, and lifts a leg out to the side, as if to be peeing on a hydrant like a fluffy Christian doggy. You just can’t make this stuff up, people!

But here’s where the “schaden” comes in: I’m pretty sure that in the Gospel somewhere, Jesus commands us to not snicker at the tragically unhip. He calls on us to love one another, and not make fun of impossibly slippery legwarmers on aerobics instructors’ feet. He wouldn’t want me to be all cynical about many people’s desire to have Christian-branded everything (maybe he’d let me remain a little cranky about that). He wants me to let people tone their hips and thighs in whatever way they want, fluffy side ponytail and all.

So here I am, still laughing a little, kinda wishing I could find an online version of this so I could hear even just a snippet of the perky aerobics instructors instructing us to do the splits and stretch our inner thighs while hearing Leon Patillo’s “Saved”, but also remembering that I shouldn’t be too critical of anyone doing any good thing on this planet.  There’s so much bad out there, that we need all the positivity we can get, even if it’s not my cup o’ tea. So I’m going to listen to some fabulous music (probably secular) and do some of their hula releases, snapping my fingers and throwing my hips out and smiling like Bobbie and Judy tell me to.  And I’m going to do it without irony, because life is just too damned short to be a cynical hipster sort. Wheeee!

* Rock-hard butt, get it?? snerk. I’m obviously as mature as your typical 12-year-old.