There’s an instructor at my gym who makes me feel like a fat rat running with a team of ferrets. Stacy. She is a hard ass, who works your ass off. She has worked her own down to a nub. Just thinking about her makes my muscles quiver.
It had been months since I took her class, but just like you forget labor after enough time passes, such is case with Stacy. Yet, the minute I walked into her 8:30 am Sculpt and Burn, I knew it was a mistake.
The girls were far too perfect. The risers on their steps too high. Their body weight too low. And the music RPM was on crack.
We began the warm-up. No simple marching here. No sir, we go right into jumping jacks with weights. Seriously? I peed my pants after the first one. I mean, come on, jumping jacks and weights? Did none of these girls have babies?
I semi-followed along, wishing I had chosen a spot closer to the door so that I could scoot out unnoticed. But no, I hid myself in the far corner and now I was stuck – stuck doing squat jumps with weights. I really am not coordinated enough to combine aerobics and weights and move to Oh Mickey. I think that for the future health of my body, nay, for the future health of the world, these things should never be mixed.
The only thing I could do was hopefully make it till the end of class without passing out or slipping on my own sweat. To distract myself, I concentrated on all the women in front of me, who looked like a bunch of fitness models. Oh look, one of them is taking off her long sleeved, hot pink over shirt. With the blasting music and the hair flip, she looks like a combination ad for Victoria Secret and Gatorade. Victorade? Hmm. Is my brain all shook up or is that a good idea??
I look at the clock. Only 20 minutes have gone by?! Ugh!
I’m panting and dripping, and I’m fascinated that everyone is just doing this class. How? Wait. There’s a girl behind me who is completely backward. We go left. She goes right. We go up. She goes down. Yay! I’m not alone. At least I’m going in the right direction. Ha ha.
We switch to some kind walking side lunge, with weights of course. Stacy doesn’t even alert us to the change. She just does. Apparently, if you can’t keep up, you don’t belong. Don’t say it.
I look at the clock again. It’s only been 4 minutes since the last time I looked?! Gaaa! When are these side lunges going to end?!
As if reading my mind, Stacy literally tosses her five pound weights across the floor, and without wasting a hyper second, she reaches for the eight pound ones and starts up the Jacks again.
Ugh! I didn’t mean it. I want the side lunges back! My boobs are about to make a guest appearance out of the top of my sports tank, as the elastic has long ago stretched beyond repair, kind of like my abs. I do a behind me mirror check. Yup, uncoordinated girl is still…uncoordinated. Whew. My misery does love company. I’m a little embarrassed with myself.
Mid jump, a poster girl for Lululemon just stops to add a matching headband to her already pony tailed hair. A moment later, she pulls out the pony tail, shakes her long blonde locks and re-ties it. I don’t think she’s even sweating. I look in the mirror at my own pony tail. It is a messy, pineapple bun tilted sideways on top of my head, hanging on for dear life, just like its host.
No! Not burpees! My nemesis. Come on! Down, out, jump. Down again. At least, there are no weights. Okay, I think I can. I think I can! I’m doing it. Yes! I look at the mirror during my jump up, but there’s only one person jumping in sync with me. Yup, it’s uncoordinated girl. The shame.
We move on to climbing man interspersed with push-ups.
I’m puffing and huffing and praying to be put out of my misery. I suddenly remembered I used to call her SS Stacy, short for skinny, sadistic Stacy. I’m having flashes. I start dreaming about a cup of coffee at Dunkin Donuts. I know I look spastic or drunk, but I might be about to pass out. It must be almost over. I look at the clock.
OMG it’s only been 8 minutes since I last checked!
I’m going to die here…
Omg Too funny and so true I stopped over in the fall !!
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That’s the reason why I don’t go to the Gym…
Anyway,veeeery funny story!
Love your work, and don’t go risking more burps, they’re killers!
thank you. and amen! the only time i’ll be burping from now on is after ice cream! 😉
I’m in the shed exercising and guess what is coming up…hint, it ain’t ice-cream! 🙂
i’m not going to touch that one. hahahaha. sorry. i’m back from being immature.
so… burpees??? you’re a much stronger man than i am. you climb mountains. i climb the walls. 😉
That icecream is making you far too cheeky…take care! 😉
yes, i’m sorry. it’s gone to my head. brain freeze!
This is hilarious. And what’s with those steps? THREE risers tall? Let’s just pretend they are compensating for something…
i know! freaking three! who are these girls!
Girl. This would drive me loco. I hate hard classes. I’m too competitive.
i used to like them, but now they just make me feel old. i don’t like that at all!
thats why i dont fool around with my perfect bod.
Oh God, it’s torture. Like my yoga class. That’s why I only take classes with old people in them. Like me. 😉
So good – great images! Burpees are the devil’s work. As are women who can jump with weights and not pee their pants. But I do like the idea of working my ass down to a nub. Who do I have to pay to make that happen without the burpees?
i had to take her class again for the picture! and she didn’t think she sounded crazy…
Wonderfully hysterical story!
not my best moment. haha!
This will totally be me as soon as I join a gym. I will have **free** access to a personal trainer person thingy.. But I’m so out of shape it’s not even funny so I will probably be the EXACT same way. In my breast cancer awareness shirt saying “don’t let them steal second base” and my walmart bought sweats that hit normal people in just the right place but almost look like high waters on me because I’m so short. Lol!!
ha!! it ain’t easy, but when you like ice cream as much as i do, there really isn’t any choice. 😉
Lol. My weakness recently was Girl Scout cookies. I forgot that there was only three rows in the little plastic thingy. I thought there was 4. And I ate two of the three in one sitting…… And the week before I put on a pair of skinny jeans/riding pants/some weird pants that literally JUST fit and I had to leave them unbuttoned all day at work because otherwise I was in pain from how tight they wore. I think that means it’s time to hit the gym!! LOL!!
oh girl scout cookies are dangerous!! small but potent!!!