Out of My Mind, Into My Body
How 1980s-Inspired Comedic Workouts Set Me Free
It all started with The Suit.
Actually, let me backup a second. My name is Maddy and I’m a character actor in Los Angeles. When creating a character, I find inspiration in all sorts of places, but oftentimes it starts with a piece of clothing + improvisation. The way people present reveals so much about who they are: confident, uptight, extroverted, authentic, insecure. In costume, I experiment with body movements. Is it easy or hard to move in this outfit? What looks or simply feels funny? Jutting out my hips or speeding up my hand gestures or holding my mouth agape — with a bit of play, the voice and personality fall into place.
So, as I was saying, it all started with The Suit. A few years ago, I was poking around a thrift store in Reno, NV with my castmates from Story Pirates, an arts education organization, and that’s when I found it: a 1980’s peach-and-purple-pastel-plaid-cotton-spandex-onesie made by Speedo. It looked like a high waisted thong unitard over bicycle shorts, except it was all one piece. I thought, This thing is friggin’ wild. I must have it. Back at the hotel, I pulled on the ensemble and modeled for my fellow comedian friends. At the time, I didn’t know where the hell I would wear a piece so tight on my body. Listen, I’ve had a substantial butt that won’t quit since 6th grade, and the thong element really draws eyes smack dab to my booty. Insecurity crept in. Still, I was pretty sure the comedy it offered was more powerful than my fear.
A (relevant) sidebar: Jazzercise™ fascinates me. Specifically, Judi Sheppard Misset, who invented Jazzercise™. If you search YouTube for “1980s workouts,” you’ll find her. She’s the uber tan instructor who grooves and sings along with through-the-roof energy. Just watching her videos cracks my shit up. I used to watch them whenever I was having a bad day. At some point, I started exercising along. I worked out to her videos to get my nerves out before interviews or auditions, or an OkCupid date. It was dumb, and wonderful, and got me out of my head and into my body.
Back to the story…. I happened to have The Suit with me at a party (ok, fine, it was Burning Man). Music played outside, people danced along. In typical Burning Man fashion, everyone seemed to be fully expressing themselves, free of self-judgement and judgement of others. If you aren’t familiar, Burner culture is formed around an ethos that includes radical self expression and radical inclusion, among others. The space is ripe for trying anything you dream of and knowing you will be fully supported. I thought, Eff it. Who the heck cares about the curves of my body? I packed The Suit for a reason! So I ran to my tent and slapped that sucker on.
People did double takes. The Suit commanded attention. Suddenly words came out of my mouth in a crackled yell, “HEY, WHO’S SINGLE AND LONELY???” A fire stirred inside me wearing that thing, manifesting in pelvic thrusts and body rolls. “UH OH!! WHATS HAPPENING?? FEELING SOMETHING SPECIAL HAPPENING 2 UR BODY!??” People started pelvic thrusting right along. The dance party evolved into an ’80s workout, improvised on the spot, of which Ms. Misset would be proud. Tami, the aerobics instructor, was born.
The Suit came with me to reunions. (Ok, FINE, my Burning Man camp reunions. I know how to have fun, okay?) I led hour-long improvised movement classes to the likes of Whitney Houston and Devo, full of strange moves that were fun to do but weren’t — strictly speaking — functioning fitness exercises. “C’MON PEOPLE! WAKE UP YOUR BITS! JUST WAVE ’EM AROUND!!!” The absurdity became a sweat-inducing workout lovingly coined Tammercise. From there, the requests rolled in. “Is Tami going to show up?” and, “Hey, what if you actually taught this? Like, in real life?” My ears perked up. This was starting to feel like something more than a regular comedy bit.
Over time, The Suit evolved into a fully fleshed out character. Tami: a sexually-repressed woman in the throes of a mid-life crisis who, though not certified (or even trained), has decided to take up teaching aerobics, and who is very, very horny. Moves like “the sexy octopus,” “north south east west” (pelvic thrusting like a compass), and the “worm/horse gallop” are common. “WHEN’S THE LAST TIME U DID THIS, HUH??” Tami often screams at her students.
Woven throughout the routine, participants discover more about Tami’s backstory, which, despite the comedic routine, is actually very sad. She was abandoned by her father, recently left by her husband, and is just starting to scratch the surface of her (sexually) repressed Catholic and unnurturing childhood. Tami invites folks to raise their hands if they have mommy issues, scream out the name of their unrequited loves, or whip ‘n crack ribbon dancers for emotional release. It’s heavy stuff, sure, but the heaviness was surprisingly easy for me to carry and release. I could channel anything negative — personal shit I hadn’t dealt with, or depressing world news hovering in the zeitgeist — into Tami’s dark story.
I started creating more opportunities for Tami. I took what was for me a huge 80’s style leap that would have made Richard Simmons proud. I told people a time and place — usually a public park in Los Angeles — where Tami would show up to lead a class, and on average, a dozen people showed up regularly. Later that spring, Angel City Brewery in Downtown LA gave Tammercise a monthly residency. People walking through the brewery sipped on their beer with baffled looks on their faces, “Is this woman for real?” Which is part of the fun. (It’s just the best when passerbys think Tami is real.)
Thing is, Tami is fun. Once in Griffith Park, a woman possibly in her late 60s walked by us. She veered off the sidewalk, ripped off her sun hat, and outstretched her arms to give Tami a massive hug. Perhaps it was Tami’s energy, The Suit, or suggestive moves — in any case, the woman was delighted in a big way. And so was I. Ahem, I mean, so was Tami.
You might not know it if you met me on the street, but I suffer from pervasive anxiety. When I’m in an anxiety hole, it’s hard for me to make the simplest of decisions. I battle with overthinking and question my every move. But when I’m Tami, it’s easy. The improv and “play” is so freeing. As Viola Spolin, a.k.a. the mother of improvisation says, “Through spontaneity we are re-formed into ourselves. It creates an explosion that for the moment frees us from handed-down frames of reference, memory choked with old facts and information and undigested theories and techniques of other people’s findings. Spontaneity is the moment of personal freedom when we are faced with reality, and see it, explore it and act accordingly.” When I’m Tami, my anxiety-hungry brain demons are nowhere to be found as she wiggles and crunches through her own demons. “FEELS GOOD, DOESN’T IT?? WHO HAS DADDY ISSUES??!” When I’m Tami, anxiety vanishes.
I recently took Tammercise to my hometown, Oklahoma City. Local friends spread the word and vintage shops promoted the class with special discounts on 80s-wear. After less than a week of promotion, more than 30 people showed up. It was wildly fun. Middle aged women, children, even my normally reserved stepmom got involved. She picked up ribbon dancers, fluttered them about, looked up to the sky and said — to NO one in particular, “I feel like I’m a little kid again!” I hadn’t seen this side of her before. It suddenly dawned on me that it wasn’t just me craving a space and opportunity to let loose.
Here’s another gem from Viola: “Play touches and stimulates vitality, awakening the whole person — mind, body, intelligence and creativity, spontaneity and intuition.”And that’s what I’ve found with Tami. She invites folks to play. Sure, you might feel some discomfort. Heck, you may be self conscious about the size of your butt. But(t) if you get out of your head and into your body, and surrender to the spontaneity, you may just end up somewhere magical.
Want to see what I mean? Ok, humor me. Just like, clench your buttcheeks real quick, back ‘n forth. Yes, you reader. Right now. “GIVE US A LITTLE BUTT SHOW!!!” Tell me you didn’t feel a tinge of silliness just for a moment? I like throwing my mind and body curveballs like this one because I find it makes me more adaptable to unsteady ground, or in this time, an uncertain world. The play makes it easier to swim in scary water. And yeah, sometimes that means giving myself a butt show.
I’d been planning for months — long before coronavirus became a household word — to release a Tammercise commercial and begin fundraising for a tour in hopes of reaching beyond my bubble. COVID changed all that. Once lockdown began, shows, jobs, festivals, everything came to a halt. My tour, maybe even my dreams, suddenly seemed impossible. Or at the very least, on long-term hold. I couldn’t think about Tami or this tour — how was I going to pay rent? The brain demons crept in, my mind was racing with anxiety about my future, my friends, our country, our planet, pretty much the entire human race. I thought about people struggling to feed their families, unsafe home situations, businesses and our economy collapsing. The hole was dark and deep.
Tami kept poking at me, but I wouldn’t listen. I was too distracted. Besides, I thought, What kind of art even matters right now? Everything is so uncertain, we can’t be silly right now. Can we?
And then, I remembered the phrase I learned from Judi Sheppard Misset: Whenever you’re in your head, get into your body. “C’MON U KNOW WHAT 2 DO MADDY!! GALLOP THRU THE PAIN!!!” I hear Tami yell at me. Ok, you win Tami! I yelled back. And I broke out The Suit.
When I started streaming Tammercise classes a couple weeks ago, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would people show up? Do people even want this right now? Is it insensitive to be silly when the world is traumatized? But during the first live stream, comments and messages popped in: “I needed this today,” “I haven’t laughed that hard in months,” and the simple “Thank you.” My heart swelled. I felt connected to myself and to others. I realized it is precisely because the world is so uncertain that we must be silly right now. We must scream our fears out and dance our worries out, together. And, a week ago, after 2.5 years of leading class, Tami made the most money she’s ever made. My jaw dropped: it was half my rent.
There’s some proverb-type anecdote I’ve heard that if there’s an accident on your normal morning commute, it forces you to take a different route. And often, you find that route offers something new — maybe it’s faster or more beautiful. Who’s to say what our present or future looks like? I certainly can’t. All I can offer right now is inspiring play. And in this new, uncertain world we find ourselves in, that means something. As Tami would say, “LET’S GO PEOPLE!!! WE HAVE TO MAKE THE MOST OUT OF OUR TIME ON THIS PLANET!!” So let’s move.
Tune in for Tammercise live streams on Facebook and Instagram. Follow Maddy on Instagram and visit her website. And heck yeah, Tami made a commercial:
Written by Madeline Wager, Further editing by Lisa Lapan
