Word: sweated
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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During the latter scene, Phoebe is wearing a pair of shapeless sweat-pants, child's baseball cap in bright blue and a particularly loud sweater. The movie does no better with comedy than with romance--scenes that are not maudlin tend to be pathetic. There is a pronounced effort to make the cast look as unappealing as possible, presumably to add a comic touch and to scoff convention. "Who does your wardrobe, Quasimodo?" Jason asks Phoebe in one of his lucid moments...
...stationary exercise bicycle at Los Angeles' Nautilus Spectrum: "I can't fathom being with a woman who's not in good shape." Glancing at the tall, slender, dark-haired woman pedaling next to him, he observes, "Any time you see a woman who knows how to sweat like that, you just gotta get to know her." The woman, A.J. Bernstein, 35, a freelance photographer, has the same ideal. "I'm not turned on by flab," she says. "Men get hostile when I take off my clothes and they discover what kind of shape...
...catharsis, a release. It's my moment of solitude," says Paul Karlin, 30, a restaurant owner and weight lifter from Bethesda, Md. "It gets you breathing hard. You sweat. Your mind is consumed by the motion of what you are trying to do and by the pain factor. But when you stop, it's like coming down from a high." Like some proud corps of crack troops, the new Spartans are dedicated to an ideal of fitness that far surpasses conventional images of weekend joggers. "I enjoy being strong," says Houston Librarian Amy Mollberg, 39, who lifts free...
...East Bank Club, where Mayster and 8,000 other puffing Chicagoans work out, is one of the glittering sweat palaces that have proliferated to service these upscale fitness enthusiasts. Like its fancy counterparts elsewhere-New York City's Vertical Club and the New York Health & Racquet Club, suburban Washington's Sporting Club, Houston's Texas Club, the San Francisco Bay Club, West Los Angeles' Holiday Health Spa-the club has a clientele of well-to-do professionals, whose Jaguars, Mercedes and BMWs crowd the underground garage...
There is the deep suspicion that Frank Reynolds considered himself a kind of marvelous accident. Television anchoring is about 60% God-given and 40% sweat. Hairlines, profiles and mellifluous tones go a long way toward moving a man or woman into the ranks of television's stars. Reynolds was a journeyman newsman with all of the above and also a pleasant way on-camera that came from his innate decency. The celebration of such qualities just might be better tuned in a more modest environment. Frank Reynolds probably would be among the first to agree...