The Buns of Veal Workout

by Kimberly Ripley

The Losing and Lively aerobics class was in full swing. Funky 80's type music filled the workout room, as sixteen full figured ladies panted and sweat profusely. The instructor was a short balding man in his mid-forties. Carlton Choak had never quite gotten the hang of spandex, and chose instead to wear a Richard Simmons-type getup of mile high gym shorts with a nylon tank.

The class met three times a week from 9 to 10 A.M. Carlton was warmed up and ready to go when the girls arrived. Always sweet and inquiring about their children, their eczema, and their husband's gallstones, he was a hit with the girls. The owners of the gym suspected that Carlton was the reason this group kept coming back. He was more than likely their romantic fantasy. No one ever seemed to lose any weight. A likely speculation would find them swooning over Carlton from 9 to 10, then heading home to their humdrum marriages, floors to wash, and a mid-morning feast of chocolate eclairs.

Occasionally Carlton coached the group on proper nutrition and how to make the most of the bodies God gave them.

"Stand up straight and be proud of who you are," he would preach.

Instantly sixteen backs straightened, butts tucked in, and guts sucked in more air than a twister. Carlton continued with his pep talk.

"Don't go home this morning, ladies, and lament over your daily doldrums. Go outside and breathe the fresh air. Take a walk around the block. It will invigorate your body and your soul."

Deep sighs filled the room.

"When you come back inside, drink a few glasses of icy cold water, and you'll feel like a new woman!"

The ladies drank in every sound their mentor made.

"So up on your feet, girls," Carlton commanded. "We'll start on one, two , three, four...When you're craving your next meal, and your toes are hard to feel, make your brain rotate the wheel, start to mold those buns of veal. Sound off."

"Sound off," came the reply in unison.

"One, two, three, four...Sure your man may be a heel, and he's lacking sex appeal, but he's missing quite a deal, when he shuns those buns of veal. Sound off.."

"Sound off."

"Four, three, two, one...Now we're starting to have fun, firming each gigantic bun, flapping flesh for everyone, wait until they watch you run. Sound off..."

"Sound off."

"Five, six, seven, eight...Sure you're taking off some weight, and you'll trick the hands of fate, next you'll notice you feel great, till you lick that greasy plate. Sound off..."

"Sound off."

"Come on, ladies, time to dance, buns of veal inside those pants, dimples, puckers everywhere, come on girls, do not despair. Sound off," Carlton continued.

No one really knew how much time he spent thinking up these military jingles, or if he just created them off the top of his shiny little head, but they served to invigorate the Losing and Lively group. By the end of class they were a sea of smiles and enthusiasm.

"Thursday, dolls," he reminded them. "Same time, same place."

"Isn't he a sweetie," Carla Curmudgeon drawled to no one in particular as the ladies changed from aerobics wear to street clothes. For some this was merely a variation of the same-spandex leggings topped with a very large shirt. They used an array of scarves, pins, and hair ornaments to accessorize the look. All dolled up and ready to roll, they formed pairs or little cliques and went their separate ways.

Somehow though, their paths seemed to cross invariably at some point during the day.

"I'll have a super double whacker with a large order of fries and a grand mama milkshake-make mine chocolate," Doris Dimples told the young fast food attendant.

"Give me the same thing, honey, but hold the mayo on the whacker," Lucy Lipid added. "I don't want to go over my caloric intake for the day."

The two babes stood in line awaiting their mid-morning snack, when they spied Carlton Choak entering the eatery-accompanied by a young buxom blonde with long silky golden locks.

"Lucy-psssssst-Lucy!" Doris nudged her eating partner in the flesh of her forearm. "Look, it's Carlton. Who do you think that woman is with him?"

Jealousy registered on the face of her companion as well as on her own.

"I don't know. Did you get the impression that he was involved with anyone?" Lucy asked.

"I thought we were the beacons in his otherwise dreary life," Doris said. "I guess he's just like all the others."

Sadly the starving duo devoured their chow, and waddled out the door toward the frozen yogurt shop. Five minutes later their buns of veal followed.

In class the next day, Carlton's curiosity piqued when none of the girls approached him for his standard good morning peck on the cheek.

"Okay, ladies. Spill the beans. Something's going on here, and I'm not going to begin this class until someone lets me in on the secret," Carlton said, standing in front of the group, hands on his hips, wagging a pointed finger in their direction.

Silence loomed ominously. The seconds ticked by. Doris and Lucy had spent the remainder of the preceding day calling the rest of the group, informing them that they were not the sole recipients of Carlton's affections. The group was quite depressed. After all this time they had come to believe in all Carlton told them They believed they were beautiful in his eyes. But seeing him with his prima donna simply drove home the fact that they were all fat and pathetic-no man would ever find them sexy.

Debbie Dinger dropped the bomb.

"Carlton," she said. "We know you've betrayed us. We know you've only been leading us on to get us to keep coming to your stupid class. Lucy and Doris saw you at Whacker World with a gorgeous woman."

Tears filled the eyes of some of the group members. Some felt the blow harder than others, and turned toward the locker room-deciding to forgo today's class and change out of their exercise gear.

"Ladies, stop. Please, I can explain," Carlton pleaded with his babes.

"Sure you can, Carlton," one member said in an accusatory tone.

"But I can-I can. Please listen to me, girls. You are the apples of my eye. Each and every one of you. There is something so red and round about you all that just makes me come alive whenever you're in this room with me. I don't know what I'd do without you. Please don't go," Carlton hung his head sadly.

"Carlton-do you really mean it?" Debbie asked.

"Oh, yes, of course I do," Carlton said sincerely.

"Then who was the woman?" two or three of the girls shouted in unison.

"Oh, her," Carlton said, a dismissive tone in his voice. "She's Sherry Sugarlips. I was taking her to Whacker World to put a little meat on her bones."

"What do you mean?"

"You see, ladies, I am completely bowled over by each and every one of you. There's a little confession I need to make. You see, I never really wanted you to lose the weight. I like round ladies. I love every one of you just the way you are."

Cheers rang throughout the workout room. Carlton hugged each and every one of his students.

Then in a shrill voice he commanded, "Now ladies, let's begin! One, two, three, four, When you walk in to my class, I feast my eyes on your big #@*, then I'm yours-my heart you steal, because I love those buns of veal. Sound off!"

"Sound off."

(This is not in any way to be meant as offensive. It was a writing challenge a few years back for a group of fun older ladies I mentored. We had fun and lots of laughs...and most of us had (have!) buns of veal!! It was intended as a play on words regarding the old exercise videos "Buns of Steel")