The Healthiest Woman on TV
[no characters are under the age of 18; no events described occurred in this or any other way to the knowledge of the author, who has no intention to infer that they did. All rights reserved by Clinton09]
What was I doing in New York? A nice guy from Chicago? I don't even like the Mets, let alone tolerate the Yankees. But, I was called by my network, the largest women's media group outside of Oprah's Harpo Enterprises. Then they dropped the hammer: I had to fly to an on location shoot and fire the talent. But it wasn't just any talent, it was my favorite for TV fitness and eye candy: Denise Austin.
The media group did not like the trends on her show and thought that it had "run its course". I objected bravely, for at least 30 seconds, before I slinked downstairs, looking for a yellow cab to take me to JFK.
The flight to Hawaii was incredibly boring and uneventful; I guess you can't complain. The last "eventful" flight over Hawaii was that one where the 737 lost its cabin roof and passengers were sucked out. OK, Ok, uneventful is fine. What, no thanks miss, nothing more for me, I'm already full from the half cup of soda and bag of Beer Nuts. Thanks anyway.
Arriving in Honolulu, I put my bags up at my digs at the Hilton and headed out to the on location shoot on one of the distant "black lava" beaches.
Arriving in 30 minutes, I saw a small shooting crew with the usual reflectors and lights(always a surprise for non-media types to see..."aren't they outside already?"); in the center of this mini-maelstrom was the ebullient Ms. Austin. She was wearing a hyper-conservative workout outfit, with stiff blue blouse with full sleeves, and shorts that went down to her knees made out of, what, Kevlar? How things had changed.
I hacked my way thru the shooting crew and introduced myself to Denise, who was, as usual, sweating profusely. A woman would step forward every few seconds and wipe her dry. I told her I had to speak with her at the next break. Huffing and puffing from her aerobics bit, she said she just had the 3 minute conclusion to shoot, which would take perhaps 45 minutes to get right; could I wait for her in the trailer. I said sure.
Her trailer was a wonderland for Denise Austin fans. Picture after picture of her husband and family; one whole wall had all of her dozens of workout tapes, now on DVD. There also were informal VHS tapes of all her shows.
I wanted to confirm what I thought, so I put in an early tape. Sure enough, she wore these bomb-proof leotards, head to toe, that were great if there was no such thing as male viewers. Made out of spun wool or something, they were not form fitting. Totally unsexy. Then the change.
She moved to a sports network which had mostly male viewers. The network already had morning workout shows that were clearly just "eye candy", bikini-clad babes who barely raised a sweat. They added Denise to that mix.
The change was spectacular. Instead of the fireproof Nomex leotards, she now wore white leotards with leg cutouts that were thin and adhered to every square inch of her fabulous body. She did a lot of mat work, too, which was either called "yoga" or "pilates", but it was damn hot.
She'd stretch out, her tanned silky legs on display(finally) for the whole world to enjoy. Pointing her pert little sexy feet, she'd raise a shapely leg, then the other. The camera would close in on her as she kept up a constant repartee' of encouragement. Some sicko's in the tv audience, not myself of course, would record this and play it back. In slow motion, it looked often as if she was blowing you a kiss or giving other "encouragement". Of course, it was only an illusion as that WAS slow-motion.
Now, after those years of being on the sports network, her contract was then moved by her media company to the women's network. Slowly but surely, out went the incredibly sexy leotards and back came the outfits your grandmother used to wear down to Brighton Beach. What a waste. All this time, the same fit, vivacious, and deceptively hot, Denise Austin was under all of these clothes.
If all of her male viewers had deserted her, now that she dressed like Oprah and was on the women's channel, she had at least one last adherent: me.
So, here I was, her last loyal male viewer, sent on a mission to terminate...with extreme prejudice.
Since her set and shoot crew did not resemble "Apocalypse Now"'s, I wasn't afraid of
Brando or Martin Sheen attacking me by surprise.
Without warning, I heard a thump on the aluminum steps to the trailer and in came Denise, wiping her brow of beads of sweat. In person, she was actually lovelier but short...I mean tiny. She was perhaps a foot shorter than my six foot two inch frame. She asked what I was here for, and I stuttered about her long and illustrious career. She finally cut in, without the sweetness and light, and said, "are you here from the network to sever our relationship?" I looked down to the rickety floor of the trailer and nodded.
