At the risk of dating myself, I was a Jane Fonda girl - I owned her work-out tapes, and even wore leotards and leg warmers. But the very first exercise video that ever came into our household was a Jack LaLanne workout tape. It belonged to the Weatherman, and I don't remember much about the exercises, except that they often involved a chair and deep knee bends.
What does stand out in my memory, though - other than the image of Jack's tiny waste and bulging biceps - is a moment in the tape where he calls for his wife Elaine to enter the room. She is carrying a tray, which is covered with fat. Literally. It must have been hacked off slabs of raw meat, but there it is, a huge pile of nasty, white, jiggling stuff. And then Jack says, "That's 10 pounds of ugly fat!"
You know how certain images stay with you? That tray of fat is permanently embedded in my consciousness. Rest in peace, Jack.
Anyway, you know what I'm doing this week. Book. Book. Book. That's all I will say on that subject.