I was super pumped to get to the gym to night because of a class called “Abs and Healthy Back.” Now, I don’t know what you picture when you hear about a class called Abs and Healthy Back, but I pictured something that would be challenging on my abs yet relaxing and soothing on my ever aching back. I kind of pictured something yoga or pilates like that would involve lots of stretching and mat work and probably a giant balance ball. What I was NOT expecting, however, was a young, male, BUFF teacher who had those rubber bands around his arms to make his muscles look huge, who would lead us in an insane, brutal workout. Know your audience, dude! You’re teaching a class full of out of shape women, why not give us a chance to fucking breathe? I asked the girl next to me, who had been to this class before, if it was always like this, and she informed me that he is a substitute, but that the class is still intended to keep your heart rate up and work various muscle groups. It was not the structure of the class to which I objected, though I could have done without the 90 jumping jacks he made us do (oh I HATE jumping … anything, and if your tits were as big as mine, you would too), but I had a real issue with the PACE of the class. There’s a difference between aerobic to get get your heart rate going and KILLER.

Eventually, I asked the girl next to me what the class was called, thinking perhaps it was like that time Pam and I thought we were going to Tai-chi and ended up going to capoeria. Apparently, I attended Abs and UPPER BODY, which does explain the lack of stretching and soothing back exercises. I want to check it out again, but I don’t know if I’ll keep going regularly. My upper body isn’t really my problem area. In fact, I’m usually pretty pleased with how my upper body looks. I mean, SURE, my boobs could be more perky or my under arms a little less floppy, but that is not where I harbor my body issues. The class immediately following this one is a Powerflex class, so I might hit the treadmill first and then get to that class.

As I was leaving the gym, a girl tried to hand me a guest pass for a friend to come. “No, thanks, I … look, I don’t have any friends. HERE, I mean. I have friends. Just not here! I’VE ONLY LIVED HERE BARELY THREE MONTHS! I HAVEN’T HAD TIME TO MEET ANYONE! STOP JUDGING ME!” Why no, I’m not feeling weird and antisocial about that at all, why do you ask?

ETA: Dear Buff Hottie McHothot working out near where I was stretching tonight: Thank you.

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