Having exercised most of my adult life, at 87, I still do 20 minutes of moderate aerobics every morning. Until recently, I would spend every idle moment engaged in some form of physical contortion.
One day, on my way up to the 26th floor of a high-rise office building, my fellow passengers got off on the lower floors. Being alone in the lift, I noticed the railing on all three sides was not unlike a ballet barre. Unwilling to waste an opportunity to exercise, I assumed a ballet plié position. Back straight, holding onto the rail with my left hand and placing my feet in the proper position, I lowered my body until my legs folded like parentheses. In what I believed was proper form, I positioned my right arm, hand gracefully cupped to an area below my waist, an inglorious and unseemly posture at best.
I had no sooner assumed this position when the elevator door opened. There stood a telephone repairman, equipment hanging around his waist, totally unprepared for the scene that met his eyes. His mouth fell agape while I remained transfixed in this unexplainable posture. After an interminable
moment, he said in a strained, cautious, but courteous voice, “Never mind, Ma’am. I’ll take the next elevator.”
-Submitted by Pearl Hoffman