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The Best Workout Class To Bounce You Into The New Year

Radar

TrampoLEAN will help you stick the landing on your resolutions

It’s a new year, which means you have probably resolved to work out more. How’s that going for you? Still fine, right? We’re only two weeks into 2018, you couldn’t have given up that easily. Chances are, you’re in the honeymoon stage where the future seems rife with opportunity, and your optimism about staying consistent with your new regimen is still high.

Try to hold on to this feeling because it won’t last. Like, statistically speaking, it really won't. Studies have found that 73 percent of people who set fitness goals as New Year’s resolutions give them up. Why? Because voluntarily putting your body through hell isn’t fun, and people like to fill their days with fun things. But what if we told you working out didn’t have to be torturous? And that it could actually be pretty enjoyable? Friends, let us introduce you to trampoLEAN.

When you enter the Stepping Out Studio in Manhattan's Flatiron District, you're met with about 30 mini-trampolines lined up facing a mirrored wall. The first thing that probably comes to mind is those cheesy '80s workout videos you saw your mom do back in the day. This isn't that—though I wouldn't mind if the attire included leg warmers, sweatbands, and leotards. Nor is it like the carefree jumping you did on your next-door neighbor's trampoline as a kid. Instead, trampoLEAN has science to back it up, founder Louis Coraggio explains. And it all starts with the equipment, which is different from a recreational trampoline. “Some health clubs still have the old trampolines that have the springs on them,” he says. “The trampolines that we use are elastic cord-based, like a bungee cord material, and it's a smoother bounce and more efficient.” Plus, the approach is more purposeful.

You can choose from a bunch of different classes, including Total Body Burn, Abs + Arms, Rave, Twerkout, and Sweat & Tone. For the most part, each is a combination of interval and high-intensity training. I’ve been taking “Sweat & Tone,” which is more of an all-over workout. Jumps may be broken up with the occasional squat, and the resistance bands and mini weights are utilized more than those with no upper body strength (hi!) might like. Then, toward the end, comes the abs section. Each body part will be worked out, and you’ll find out just how hard over the next couple of days when the soreness starts to creep in.

Full disclosure: Getting the hang of jumping on the trampoline in a controlled manner isn’t easy. The intent isn’t to jump as high as possible, like when you were a kid. “It's all about trying to stay nice and low to the mat as you bounce,” Coraggio says. Training your mind to keep your jumps quick and short (ideally, your feet will stay in a 90-degree angle with your knees) takes some time, as does coordinating and balancing on the trampoline and following along with the moves. Remember, as is the case with all workout classes, go at your own pace. The more times you go, the easier it will get.

The best way I can describe the class is still that it's just plain fun, and it has the added benefit of being less strenuous on the body than many of the other high-intensity workouts out there. “Trampolining is really good for people that have knee and ankle issues because it's low-impact,” Coraggio says. “So, for people that can't really go running or jogging, it's a good alternative.” It’s not cycling or boxing or 305 fitness, where you typically sweat buckets and feel completely drained afterward. With trampoLEAN, you’ll actually be able to enjoy the endorphins that come along with a good workout, without wanting to pass out on the subway during your commute home.

It's also a no-judgment zone. At no point during the 50-minute class did I worry about not being able to keep up with the pace or feel pressure to be the bounciest bouncer. It's just an enjoyable, efficient class—the perfect kind to bounce you into 2018.

Nail polish is for novices

Fashion label The Blonds is known for its high-intensity looks that you'd only wear if you wanted to stand out (and who doesn't?). For its runway shows, wild press-on nails are the beauty step that can't be missed. So, since the brand has partnered with CND since it was founded, we thought it best to get prepped for the show with Jan Arnold, CND's co-founder.

See why you should take your nail look from a zero to a 10, in the video above.

Credits:
Shot by Charlotte Prager
Edited by Gretta Wilson
Produced by Alexandra Hsie
Production Assistant: Polina Buchak
Featuring Jan Arnold of CND Nails and The Blonds

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Photo courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures.

It would've been nice if someone said the word "fat"

Back in November, Rebel Wilson claimed to be the first plus-sized lead in a romantic comedy when she appeared on Ellen to talk about her role in Isn't It Romantic. Wilson was not only wrong, but she was—even if inadvertently—erasing the work of Black plus-size actresses like Queen Latifah and Mo'Nique, both of whom have expansive resumes that include romantic comedies.

Wilson's comment isn't the first example of white women taking up a little too much space in the fat acceptance ethos. It's actually quite common. But there is a reason why women like Wilson—women who are blonde, pretty, successful, and white—get put front and center in calls for body positivity. In the same way that feminism—the movement from which body positivity was born—has often failed to address how gender intersects with other identities like race and class; so, too, has body positivity been championed as a cause for otherwise privileged women. And that's why it's no surprise that Isn't It Romantic, which aspires to be both a spot-on mockery of rom-coms and a celebration of body positivity, is actually a perfect example of how very white both the movie genre and the body positivity movement tend to be.

In the film, Wilson plays Natalie, an architect based in New York, who is single and plus-sized—the archetypal rom-com underdog. Very early on in the movie, she endures the double humiliation of both being hit by a runaway food cart and then accosted by its owner for not stopping it with her "cement truck"-like body. At work, Natalie is similarly disrespected: The office manager hands off troubleshooting tasks to Natalie; another colleague always tasks Natalie to throw out his trash; her assistant Whitney (Betty Gilpin) won't stop watching movies (rom-coms, naturally) while in the office; and Natalie is so afraid to present her ideas for more innovative parking garage designs that she isn't even widely known in the firm as an architect, and is treated like an intern.

But is Natalie just a doormat? Or is it that she isn't asking for what she wants? And isn't very nice about not getting it? If Natalie's life is any example, the bar on suffering is set pretty low for white women. In her personal life, Natalie lives alone with her dog, and seems to be pretty well-off, financially; her best friend is actually her slacker assistant, Whitney, and she's close with another coworker, Josh (Adam Devine), who gives Natalie constant emotional support. She's decidedly anti-romantic, having been told by her mother from a young age that there's no such thing as real-life fairy tales; she's level-headed and practical. But also, she's filled with self-loathing. This leads her to be crass, sarcastic, and disconnected from people. And it was this last part that was hard for me. As a fat Black woman who grew up broke, does not have an assistant, and would get fired if I didn't do my job well, it was hard, if not impossible, to root for her.

For Natalie, though, everything changes when she bangs her head while fighting off a mugger. Her mundane life is tinted through rosy rom-com glasses. Suddenly, all the things that sucked about her life are gone, and everything is beautiful and perfect. But was her life so bad before? It didn't really seem to be.

And yet, looking around the theater at the mostly white, female audience, I accepted that my feelings didn't seem to be shared. But that almost seems to be by design; this feels like a movie for a white, female audience. There is only one person of color in the movie who even has a name: It's Isabelle (Priyanka Chopra), who shows up about halfway through the film—after everything has been rom-com filtered—as a yoga ambassador and swimsuit model. But a name is all Isabella has. A supporting character at best, she doesn't have any connection to anyone other than her white boyfriend, and is sketchily drawn. We learn nothing of her familial or ethnic background, and, even when she is shown at her wedding, there is nobody from her family celebrating with her. This huge oversight is particularly bizarre, given that Natalie has already bemoaned the lack of diversity in romantic films.

Another huge oversight? The presence of the word "fat." I don't think I heard it used a single time. Natalie only references her weight indirectly, by commenting on the appearance of straight-sized women; when talking about her own body, the word "fat" is replaced with "girl like me." But by ignoring this aspect of herself, and refusing to address it head-on, Natalie is succumbing to the same fatphobia that shapes her world, whether she identifies it as being a problem or not.

Before her life becomes a rom-com, Natalie feels invisible at work and in the world. Some of this is certainly her fault, but fatphobia is also at play. Fatphobia chips away at the humanity of fat people from different angles. It means that Natalie gets used to being dehumanized; she doesn't expect others to have empathy for her when she's physically hurt, because they don't value her body. And it's no coincidence that Natalie's fantasy world includes a magically bigger apartment with unlimited clothing options, because discrimination against fat people isn't just a matter aesthetics and preferences—it affects everything from our ability to dress ourselves to our ability to make and save money, since there's a price to pay for being fat, even if it's just having to pay more to travel. Just as much as gender and race intersect with fat bodies, so, too, do economics and class.

I knew I could count on a plus-sized white comedian to take down a genre of films that prioritized thin women. But I ventured to see if Wilson could go further than that, and challenge what it means to be white and well-off and fat in the process; it isn't just about taking down rom-coms but about doing so in a way that isn't just a mouthpiece for white feminist values. But, in the end, that isn't what happened. Isn't It Romantic is fine, but it needed to do more than target an audience of girls who are 10 to 30 pounds overweight and still too jolted by the word "fat" to ever apply it to themselves, so they go for acceptable alternatives, like curvy, plus-sized—or thicc, if they're hip. But I'm not afraid to say I'm fat, I'm just disappointed I will be waiting even longer to see a realistic reflection of that experience onscreen.

Isn't It Romantic is in theaters now.