Did anyone else notice this full-page gem in the LA Weekly this week? I look at this and I think “Goddess“? “Fitness”? Wrong. Wrong.
This is noxious on so many levels it’s hard to know where to begin, but let’s say this much at least–maybe this is “the most fun you will ever have in fitness” because make-overs, weight loss, champagne, parties, boutiques, performances, and so on, have, in fact, nothing at all to do with fitness.
But maybe I am being too dismissive. Clearly, more thought went into the development of classes and fitness programs than you might think on first glance. Emma Ridley, the owner of this fitness emporium cogently explains: “At Goddess Fitness there is no right or wrong way to move, it is just movement.” I don’t know about you, but I feel fitter already. I’m even moving while I’m typing this post right now.
Not only can you learn to pole dance and have a make-over here, you can get a dye job and a Brazilian as well because what’s a goddess without a decent pelvic thrust and a body smooth as a balloon? I know I’m ridiculously retro, nay, even prehistoric, to question the empowering nature of stripper heels and hairless twats–I admit, my feminism got beached before the third wave–but can we at least agree that these things are not “fitness”? For god’s sake LA, get a grip. This is not an easy town to be a woman in. Truly.
And then there’s the video. Do you suppose there’s some kind of platinum membership level that gives you the boobs too?