My guilty pleasure is Dancing With the Stars ... there is an addictive quality to it. Like a cheap street drug it sucks you into its "I think I can dance too" vortex leaving you with a false sense of flexibility and grace. And it holds you in its gnarly grip so that by the second show you graduate from the admiration and spectator stage to the invincible "how hard can it be?".
Kidlet and I watch it together most times and we laughed when we caught ourselves critiquing the performances -- "the lines were off; the footwork was a mess; the choreography didn't showcase the star enough; her head should be tilted more to the right". Incredible how the mere act of watching can instill such confidence and expertise in one who lacks even the most basic sense of rhythm. I confess to trying some of those latin moves in the privacy of my own family room, but the dog and Kidlet protesteth too much!
But all is not lost. I have a new strategy to minimize the couch time that I log when I am watching the tube .... I pulled out my stretch bands and resistance bar and during the commercials I logged some resistance training. If the sight of those half naked dancers doesn't inspire, I'm not sure what can.