Today I tried a new form of torture at the gym- a class called "Chiseled". Not only did this class kick my ass in every way imaginable, but it also made me feel as if I was living out my own personal sitcom.
The teacher, is probably not a day over 65. Seriously- this lady is easily old enough to be my Mom, but that's where the comparisons end. She has a stomach flatter than my fourth grade chest, legs longer than any joke I'll ever tell and hair styled in a perfect long-haired version of senior-citizen-hottie Barbie. She's wearing a black sports bra, black boy shorts, and a sheer black flamenco scarf tied around her hips.... the fringe sways when she moves. This woman is amazing- and immediately, I start to feel like the fat girl at rush. I'm wearing a crumpled pair of yoga pants, and one of Matt's old t-shirts that says "Beer Ambassador" on the front. Trust me, not a sexy look.
This woman spends the next 60 minutes inflicting such agony, that I had to stop at certain moments and just giggle- because, what else can a person do when a 60+ Barbie starts playing French techno music and starts yelling the following:
"Do you know how many calories are in a pound of fat,ladies? 3,500. Think of that the next time you want to eat a muffin."
"Know what I do when I eat a muffin? I take a bite and spit it out- because, ladies.... you know what they always say...."Never swallow!"
Throughout the class, I learned this woman was a flight attendant for Continental, liked Aretha Franklin, and was extolling the virtues of learning to cook- so everyone around you could get fatter and make you look skinnier. (Seriously!) Her sparkly eye makeup never got smudgey, and she would put us through a torturous repetition of some inhumane movement, and start to count us down- 4-3-2- and then start to tell one of her stories involving a hot guy and a Maserati, and somehow forget that we had lost sensation in our right leg, and then resumed counting- but started back at the beginning.
After the class was done, I staggered out of the room to go and get my kids- when out of the corner of my eye, I see her- in all of her golden sparkly glory, dancing in front of the mirror. Her hair was swaying, her fringe was moving and she waved to me and said "See you Tuesday!" Maybe she will, but I'll probably eat a muffin first. And swallow it, damn it.