'Today I Am Enough The Way I Am'

After foot surgery and ankle injuries ended my days of studying ballet (pointe shoes are instruments of the devil, anyway), I became another L.A. workout/studio/gym rat, always enrolling in another workshop, class series, Pilates, yoga, Spinning, jazz-ercise or, last month, dashing in for a fabulous master class in Beverly Hills with Richard Simmons, who put the packed house through their paces wearing fishnets and pink tutu. 

But there really wasn't any class that became a habit until I discovered Idrea Lippman's Attitudes class at Body Women Only Fitness Center.  I had joined this modest women's gym because I knew circling the parking lot for 15 minutes to work out at s on Ventura with 200 hardbodies on Stair Masters wasn't going to happen. For single girls there may be some appeal to doing aerobics next to 25-year-old male hardbodies, but to a married stepmom who saves with and throws out mailings from AARP like radioactive waste, these spinning Adonises are just so many sweat-sprinklers. (I'm not putting in a link to AARP, find it yourself).

That explains the women's gym -- but it took me a couple of years to discover Attitudes, the class Idrea has taught here for 27 years and has to be the most popular offering at the gym. Try to find a parking space at 10 a.m. MWF and Sat. I'd look in through the windows at the packed studio, hesitate, and say to myself --well, what was I saying to myself, really?

In conversation earlier this week, Idrea, openly 57 and a former cover girl for BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) magazine, guessed at it: "You saw someone who is not a 20- or 30-something and not of a 'normal' body weight, doing something large women just don't do."  (Heidi and I dropped in on Idrea during her off-hours at Bloom Service on Tujunga, where she was filling in last week for her sister).

For me it wasn't the weight issue. I remember once ducking into a Westside class for overweight women because I got to the gym too late for my regular class; they razzed me for being relatively skinny but gee, they were so much nicer than the solitary bony chicks in the other class who would stare at themselves in the mirror during workout, then dash out to weigh themselves and run somewhere important without saying hi or goodbye.  Chubby was OK. I realize now I was more freaked out by the fact that there were old people in there. My high-impact mind remains in complete denial of my own low-impact joints.

But I started going in because I liked the music -- fun, pounding pop. The women smiled and said hello instead of grabbing their cell phones and BlackBerries during the break (confession: I still do that). I discovered that yes, there were some regulars like 90-year-old Toby Klug, a 27-year veteran of the class, and actress Jane Kean ("Let's say I'm over 75") who are above my demographic. But there were women of all ages, sizes and fitness levels, and you can pump it up or bring it down at will.  It is also true that the women who really kick ass are not necessarily younger than I am. (I follow Toby because she stands in front and never gets the steps wrong).

Then there's Idrea, who keeps it going by saying "do the best you can."  Born in Hollywood "with an Oreo cookie in my mouth," Idrea says that her struggle with weight immediately puts anyone with body issues in a comfortable place. "If you are judgmental, you are asked to leave," Idrea says firmly. She wants women to celebrate who they are and stop "sitting shiva for what they're not."

She also keeps it lively with personal stories, preaching self-acceptance and occasional ribald jokes (possible more on Saturday morning when the Orthodox Jews aren't there, she cracks).  We hear about personal strife, new beginnings, and "Bob" -- Idrea's faithful "battery operated boyfriend." Her sage advice: Have sex every day, whether you are with someone or not."  She'll cry with class members, celebrate birthdays and keep us posted on what's going on with her family, including four dogs.

At the end of each class, she asks the members to cross their hands over their hearts say along with her: "Today I am enough the way I am." Hokey? Your call. But you know, it shouldn't be so hard to say to ourselves what our dogs tell us every day.