Little known fact about me: I’m more like a labrador puppy than you would expect. Purely because like a labrador puppy I need to be walked. I need to move around in order to maintain my oh-so-precious-but-ever-so-fleeting sanity.
And today, my labrador-esque self met its match.
And I can honestly say that today, in all of my nineteen years of wisdom and experience, I got my DONK kicked by a spinning class instructor cleverly disguised as a well-meaning grandpa.
And what a fun-filled hour that was.
Being me, I find uncomfortable, unfamiliar, and awkward things to be oodles o’ fun, and seeing as a spinning class seemed to encompass all of those things I decided to go to a class today.
Guys, I didn’t think I’d ever find myself getting the crap kicked out of me by an old man who was dancing, biking,clapping, singing, and yelling to Michael Jackson music.
Especially when I first came in the door thinking “Oh, man. This little old man is so presh. I just want to sit on his lap and eat Werther’s candies with him and watch ‘Price is Right’ and yell prices at the TV. How cute. Maybe he’ll be my new best friend.”
Recreation of adorable old man.
WRONG. SO WRONG.
I’m just going to put it out there that the spinning class I went to today almost convinced me that someone must have put hallucinogenic drugs in my water bottle, as the following things ran through my mind whilst my thighs were a-burnin’.
“Is it possible for your thighs to shoot out flames? Like a fire-breathing dragon that just ate muy caliente Mexican food?”
“I don’t even know if there are any more liquids in my body anymore. “ (Gross, MY BAD.)
“I wouldn’t eat Werther’s candies with this old man even if he let me yell my price at the TV first.”
“HURTS SO GOOD. HURTS SO GOOD” (because I’m secretly a meat-head on the inside)
“They shouldn’t send criminals to prison. They should send them to spinning class!”
And this little experience left me feeling a bit scarred. So I’m going back to what I usually do, like talking to my dog, finger-painting, and slurping smoothies in my sweats (and possibly rocking myself back and forth in a corner of my room, muttering nonsense to myself).
Man, I’m going to be so popular at the old folks home I imagine I’ll be chilling at 50-some years from now.
Maybe I’ll be a crazy spin instructor, too!