Double Jeopardy Indeed.

There's a whole lot of hoo-hah going on about Ashley Judd's face and Ashley Judd's retorts to comments about said face.

I'm impressed by the defense she launched.

I'm less impressed by the media outlets that are marveling that she wrote such an intelligent, insightful article. That is the news they're using as their hook. Is that because she's an actress? Is that because she's not a journalist by trade? Is it because she's a woman?

Fictional Ashley Judd: Hi. Please stop catapulting my face to the top of the day's news issues. Not only is it irrelevant, but it's perpetuating the ubiquitous media misogyny that is becoming as equally acknowledged as it is ignored.

Fictional Press At Large: Whoa. She spelled misogyny correctly.

Fictional Ashley Judd: Women are... wait, what? Yes, it's spelled correctly...

Fictional Press At Large: And... her prose is lucid.

Fictional Ashley Judd: I did in fact proofread this before sending it to international media outlets.

Fictional Press At Large: Hey look everybody, Ashley Judd is writing intelligent things! With appropriate syntax!

Fictional Ashley Judd: Well... yes, but...

Fictional Press At Large: She's defending herself! She's criticizing us for criticizing her! But we're so supportive of her cause ourselves we're going to publicize her remarks! Because holy crap!

Fictional Ashley Judd: Okay. Sure, but you seem to be missing...

Fictional Press At Large: Hey Earth! This actress constructed sentences with more substance than her waist line!... What? Oh right. Her waistline is expanding... well, please direct your attention to the beautiful woman that sure, might be puffy, but that's okay since her statements make sense!

Fictional Ashley Judd: Forget it.

I think it's awesome what she's saying. I think it deserves to be printed and deserves to go viral, but I don't think it deserves everyone else reading it and writing new stories about how "surprising" and "refreshing" it is to see such opinions publicized.

It's all very pat you on the head little girl.

You're too pretty to do homework, but turns out you're smart and don't need to anyway! My God! The revelation!

Let's write news stories about it and completely perpetuate the very thing she's arguing against!

This just in, Pretty Woman Writes a Literate Article! I Think It's About How The Media Should Stop Being So Ignorant!

Ohhh, progress.

Let's get physical.

People say that exercising makes you happy (“And happy people just don’t shoot their husbands,” - Elle Woods). I on the other hand experience what I’ve come to call endorphin rage. When I exercise you know, those four to five times a year, I get angry. Really angry. I turn mean(er).

It becomes most pronounced while running. I absolutely don’t understand why people view this as a desirable activity nor how on God’s green Earth some people drag themselves through marathons. Pain? Humiliation? Yes, please?

Claiming one’s self a runner is a big ole masochistic flag to me.

Despite this at least once a year I try to become one of those people. (Let’s remember, I went through med school. If that’s not an occult endorsement for a masochist facet of me I don’t know what is.)

My fiance, The Irreverent Reverend, was a jock in high school (I know, what’s he doing with me. He was the jock who would rather talk about the emotional turmoil and social injustice of demonizing his opponents. Aaaand there we go. Back to nerd-dom.). And since I believe our (the collective Our of American twenty-somethings) personalities and way of interacting with the world are solidified in the high school years, he naturally continues to be fairly jock-ish. (Not to be confused with jock itch.)(In case you were reading aloud.)

He runs. I love him, so I try to run too. Five minutes in that love comes into question.

Any passer by catching an earful would swear I just found out he accidentally got my high school nemesis pregnant the way I rail at him, roll my eyes and generally become the worst version of myself. It only gets worse the more distance we log. After we did five miles (… a few months ago) I was fairly sure a preemptive divorce was in the works.

Anyway. My point!

In order to make this new Spark endeavor work I need to find some kind of exercise that doesn’t make me want to die. So, again reaching back to what I enjoyed in high school, I decided to try dancing.

Sure I haven’t touched a ballet barre in a good 12 years, but hey, I can still stand on tiptoe! How else would I reach the sea salt chocolate bars I hide from myself on the top shelf?

I guess I did do a few Broadway Dance Center drop-ins while I was in NYC… but those classes included one armed push-ups and frankly, I don’t think that’s dancing. That’s torture.

At any rate, I’m going to hit up some beginner jazz for teens and adults tonight at the local center. Spirit fingers crossed I don’t use what limited breath I’ll have to curse out the 14 year olds for being “fit” and “healthy.” Jerks.