The "You Pay $8.95" Tax Plan
Due to a strange confluence of circumstances,* I am now a member of more gyms than I have legs.**
The workouts I do at my #1 gym of the moment -- a fancy place -- are part of a fancy-place program of mainly HIIT/Tabata style workouts that kick your ass (and abs, glutes, erector spinae, hip flexors, neck cords and whatnot) in 45 minutes -- I LOVE these sessions, honest to Shatner. And but so the other day, I went to like a starter Pilates class -- you have to take four before you're allowed into the real Pilates classes that are part of this program -- and encountered the teacher, this totally strange spacey lady, for the first time. She was like what Sybill Trelawney looks like in my mind, if Professor Trelawney weighed 87 pounds and wore loose-fitting yoga duds. She spent 35 minutes on breathing (I wish I were kidding), and the rest on floating judgmental comments into the air, at no one in particular, about "those other workouts" (the ones I like) in which "people abuse their bodies" and how "some people" aren't interested in the "mind-body connection." So I'm lying there, "tightening my pelvic cradle on the exhale" (not a euphemism), thinking GOSH, Judgmental Pilates Lady sure is judgmental!
That's ... all I got for ya, pals.
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*Briefly, it is this: Summer 2011, I join a local bare-bones gym with a childcare area staffed by one of the warmest and most wonderful caregivers I've ever met. Summer 2014, I grow bored enough with treadmills and elliptical machines to seek out other gyms with good GroupX offerings; I find one, via a friend I'd like to see more of anyway, and join up. Three days later, THREE DAYS, I get a response to a weeks-old pitch I'd made, via email, to yet another, fancier gym, in which I proposed that I get to do their new, fancy, expensive workout program for free in exchange for blogging about it. I never thought in a million years that they'd accept this pitch -- but it was a damn good 'un, and I guess they felt the same, so until I get those other memberships canceled or suspended (which I think takes an Act Of Congress? I've petitioned Nancy Pelosi, haven't heard back, she must be busy), I'm a member of three (3) gyms.
**MICK! That one was for you! Dave Barry's greatness will never fade! I've recently rediscovered him, because a copy of Dave Barry's Greatest Hits that I picked up for 50 cents at the Friends of the Library Sale is what I read, most nights, sitting on my daughter's bed trying not to lose my shit absolutely while my daughter faffs around NOT getting ready for bed.
The workouts I do at my #1 gym of the moment -- a fancy place -- are part of a fancy-place program of mainly HIIT/Tabata style workouts that kick your ass (and abs, glutes, erector spinae, hip flexors, neck cords and whatnot) in 45 minutes -- I LOVE these sessions, honest to Shatner. And but so the other day, I went to like a starter Pilates class -- you have to take four before you're allowed into the real Pilates classes that are part of this program -- and encountered the teacher, this totally strange spacey lady, for the first time. She was like what Sybill Trelawney looks like in my mind, if Professor Trelawney weighed 87 pounds and wore loose-fitting yoga duds. She spent 35 minutes on breathing (I wish I were kidding), and the rest on floating judgmental comments into the air, at no one in particular, about "those other workouts" (the ones I like) in which "people abuse their bodies" and how "some people" aren't interested in the "mind-body connection." So I'm lying there, "tightening my pelvic cradle on the exhale" (not a euphemism), thinking GOSH, Judgmental Pilates Lady sure is judgmental!
That's ... all I got for ya, pals.
------------------------------------
*Briefly, it is this: Summer 2011, I join a local bare-bones gym with a childcare area staffed by one of the warmest and most wonderful caregivers I've ever met. Summer 2014, I grow bored enough with treadmills and elliptical machines to seek out other gyms with good GroupX offerings; I find one, via a friend I'd like to see more of anyway, and join up. Three days later, THREE DAYS, I get a response to a weeks-old pitch I'd made, via email, to yet another, fancier gym, in which I proposed that I get to do their new, fancy, expensive workout program for free in exchange for blogging about it. I never thought in a million years that they'd accept this pitch -- but it was a damn good 'un, and I guess they felt the same, so until I get those other memberships canceled or suspended (which I think takes an Act Of Congress? I've petitioned Nancy Pelosi, haven't heard back, she must be busy), I'm a member of three (3) gyms.
**MICK! That one was for you! Dave Barry's greatness will never fade! I've recently rediscovered him, because a copy of Dave Barry's Greatest Hits that I picked up for 50 cents at the Friends of the Library Sale is what I read, most nights, sitting on my daughter's bed trying not to lose my shit absolutely while my daughter faffs around NOT getting ready for bed.
Labels: and if'n I drop I reckon I'll be in motion, balls in YOUR mouth sir, first-world problems, Janice says you're welcome, Judge Judy, the burbs, The Californians, yes Sensei
posted by Gleemonex at 2:10 PM
2 Comments:
Good grief. Sometimes I think about trying to get transferred to our mother ship in the east bay, but I would never survive the Professor Judgmental Space Trelawneys. Good on ya for not snickering. And congratulations on the blogging gig! It sounds exhausting, and I don't know how you do it!
Dave Barry -- what a sweet reminder of a simpler time. I need to dig through The Booktorium (okay, our storage space); I think I have that one!
I got the biggest smile laughing at this! All the instructors at our fancy gym hate on all the other classes and what's weird is there are two studios separated by a glass wall and I've done the mind-body connection style and the abusing-your-body style ones and now I know that no matter which class I'm in, the folks on the other side are silently judging and hating my class and vice-versa.
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