What Kevin Hart and my mother taught me about exercise
What Kevin Hart and my mother taught me about exercise
Never underestimate your funny friend as a workout partner
Writer’s note: This post was first published on Medium’s “Tickled” on May 14, 2020 and will now be permanently housed on Substack’s new “Tickled” column.
“I can’t take her seriously,” my mother said. “Look at her pants.”
I huffed, “Mom, will you just do the dance moves?”
“No, those ugly pants are making me forget all the choreography,” she said.
The more annoyed I got at my mother — who was determined to give her critiques during my hourlong WERQ routine — the more inspired she was. I refused to admit that I didn’t like the dancers’ panda pants either. I was already trying hard not to laugh at the Fashion Police who birthed me.
A few weeks later, I switched up the workout routine to Kukuwa Fitness. By that time, my mother declared that she “only wants to do old people exercises. I’m in my 60s, little girl.”
But I was ready for this new protest, especially after she declared “the woman in the headwrap is worse than the other ones. Don’t you know I’m old?”
The “woman in the headwrap” is 60, believe it or not. And she could hear my Cheshire grin through the phone, pointing out that Kukuwa Kyereboah was only two years younger than her.
Her new response, “My gawd, I’ll never hear the end of it now.”