WARNNG: Sailor-style swearing ahead…
One of the lesser-promoted facts about me is that I teach aerobics (which for those born after 1990 is the 80’s name for a body-conditioning class). This piece of information is normally met with thinly veiled disbelief (I can tell by the way that their eyes go all narrow) because lets just say that if I was in a line-up, you wouldn’t exactly say ‘Why yes, that one’s definitely the fitness instructor’.
People say all kinds of weird stuff in gym change rooms and gym instructors are often cornered when there’s no escape (what with being naked and all). I was once asked why, if I am so fit and a regular gym goer, don’t I look much better than I do?
It was tricky to come up with a constructive answer when the prevailing retort in my mind was ‘Piss Off’. I considered making something up about over-imbibing on weekends (which isn’t entirely true and isn’t entirely a lie either) and just ended up saying , in what I hoped was a mysterious voice, “it’s due to the medication”. Thank God she didn’t pry further but she still looks at me funny.
And so it was that I found myself this week once again in a state of half-undress, fielding gym class concerns.
Gym Class Lady: You know, some people are so rude.
Fake Me: Well yes, they certainly can be.
Real Me: Oh shit, I know what’s coming. Ear-fuck imminent.
Gym Class Lady: Yes, you know every week I stand in the same place and today, someone just came and stood in my spot.
Fake Me: Really? They did?
Real Me: It’s not your spot.
Gym Class Lady: Yes, some woman who hasn’t come to the class in months just squeezes herself between MY spot and the wall.
Fake ME: Oh Dear.
Real Me: Between your spot and the wall would technically speaking make it NOT your spot. And if she hasn’t been for months she therefore DOESN’T KNOW that it’s ‘your’ spot. And also, it’s not your spot.
Gym Class Lady: It wasn’t as if I hadn’t booked my spot either. I’d put my mat down there and everything.
Fake Me: Ah, I see
Real Me: Okay, let’s clarify this for once and for all. Just the same as Germans can’t book sun-loungers with their beach towels, you can’t book a spot in a gym class with a mat. The only thing that ensures your spot is you standing there. And also, it’s not your spot.
Gym Class Lady: You know, I would never do something like that. I could never be that rude.
Fake Me: No no, I know you couldn’t.
Real Me: Are you shitting me? You’re being rude right now. Do I look like I give a flying feather about your stolen spot? Which, by the way, is NOT your fucking spot?
Gym Class Lady: I was so irritated that I just decided not to do the class
Fake Me: That’s a shame.
Real Me: Seriously? You you’re blaming her for not finding another spot but you won’t move your spot? And also, ITS NOT YOUR FUCKING SPOT!
Gym Class Lady: You know, I don’t really care. People must just do what they feel is right. I’m the kind of person who doesn’t let others get me down.
Fake Me: Good for you!
Real Me: I can tell. Totally. So why are you chewing my ear off while I’m naked in the changeroom when I don’t give a toss about your lost spot because: IT’S. NOT. YOUR. FUCKING. SPOT.
I’m really going to have to work on my disinterested face.
NOTE OF WARNING! Unless you plan on an early death, do NOT under any circumstances, get into a discussion at the gym about aircon VS opening the windows. Seriously. You’ve been warned.
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