Remember when I had that really genius idea to take a Pilate's class at the gym and I almost died. Well, yesterday, I was sitting on my couch eating a bag of rice cakes with a cube of butter and...no, I am not being sarcastic. I literally had half a stick of butter on a napkin that I was slicing onto my rice cakes. What? Shape magazine said rice cakes are healthy. Stop judging me, Judy.
So, there I was, buttering my intestinal tract, when I thought "hmmm, maybe I should go to a cycling class today." I wish I had a time machine so I could go back to that very moment to throw a lawn chair at my head. But no. Time travel is for whores and I am obviously the Virgin Mary in this story.
I got to the gym early so I could pick out a good bike and get it adjusted properly. Look at me. Such a go getter. Like Hillary Duff chasing her dream of being a REAL singer. Now, onto my first issue: my over sized Kardashian a.k.a my butt. If you have ever felt like your butt was jiggly or big, go sit on a bike and tell me how you feel. My butt fat was building a fort around that damn seat. A FREAKING FORT. I had every corner of that seat covered with at least an inch of my fat. Like white on rice. Motivation to work even harder in the class? You would think so. I would hope so. Ha.
Ethan, the instructor, comes prancing into the room. Yep. His skipping could give Dorothy a run for her money. "Okay, guys! (wide smile) Who's ready to meet those New Year's resolutions and work that booty?!" Lance Armstrong with one more testicle say what? His high-pitched excitement really should have been a warning to my fat soul. But nooooooooooooooooo. Fat soul wanted to play. Fat soul wanted to barf butter and rice cakes and kidneys. Why can't I just have a normal fat soul who wants to chill with Paula Deen and Rosie O'Donnell and eat butter wrapped in bacon?
We started with a nice slow pace. Ethan was punching the air it was so easy. I, on the other hand, was sweating and heaving and had the sudden urge to push Mr. Prancy-pants off his stupid stationary bike and watch him cry. Sorry, Ethan, but you brought this upon yourself.
Worst part. I had the brilliant idea to position my bike directly in front of that butthole. He was watching me like I was the piece of chocolate he doesn't allow himself to eat. Can you say awkward? He kept telling me to speed up, turn up the incline, stop crying, etc.. Well, EXCUSE ME!!! Not all of us can look like Mary friggin Poppins while riding a bicycle through hell. Go eat a twinky and be average you butt.
So. There was blood. There was a lot of sweat. And, I may have cried a little. BUT. I survived. Poor man's Lance + 1 testicle can suck it.
I hate cycling. I'm not able to sit for 2 weeks. Those seats hate vaginas.
ReplyDeleteHe sounds like Jillian! Come on you big jiggly butt!
ReplyDeleteHahahah! Totally!
ReplyDelete