Thursday, May 11, 2006

Piss Me Off and Spank Me

When I go to the gym, I’m not one of those pretty, well-put-together women. It’s 7am, the fitness center staff won’t be serving cocktails and hors’douvres, and I’ll be sweating profusely. On a good day, I stumble out of bed, dig out one of each from my gym clothes drawer, don sneaks, brush my teeth and head out the door. I don’t even comb my hair. People with hair like mine never comb their hair. If I did, I’d look like Bride of Frankenclown, which shouldn’t be confused with Bride of Assclown. That’s several more levels of shame, humiliation and defilement below Frankenclown.

Needless to say, when I get to the gym, I’m fairly single-minded. I rarely talk to other people and they rarely talk to me. It’s not that I’m mean or grumpy. I just look like a poorly kept, chubby, middle-aged muffin-head … probably not very appealing. I’m okay with that. I didn’t join the gym to make friends. In fact, I get a bit disjointed when I run into friends because I have to act like I’m glad to see them. It just doesn’t seem right. At the same time, people need to be aware that they share the gym with other folks. Is a smidge of social courtesy and respect too much to ask?

So, the other day I finished the first part of my routine and was ready to move on to the elliptical machine. Despite the fact that my gym is huge and has every machine ever made, there are three elliptical machines that I fancy. On this particular day, two of them were open when I wanted one.


Since the TV monitor at the first empty machine wasn’t working, I plugged into the second, climbed aboard and proceeded to swing my happy little legs to and fro. Unfortunately, I was rudely interrupted 4 minutes and 38 seconds later.

A man-boy approached my machine and loudly said,
"Hey, I was using that machine. I had to stop and take a break. I was planning to come back. I had to go take my insulin."

It wasn’t what he said. It was the how-dare-you-use-my-machine way he said it. Also, if he had included an "excuse me" or "I’m sorry to interrupt" or "Please, if you don’t mind", it would have made a world of difference.

I’m as compassionate as can be toward folks with Diabetes, however, I was shocked by his effrontery and sense of entitlement. The first and last thing I said was, "So, you want me to get off." Statement, not question.

He simply said "yes" without offering a "thank you".

At that point, I was tempted to move to a different part of the gym and use one of the other less desirable ellipticals so I’d have a TV. I also had a fleeting thought that a hot fudge sundae would be great for breakfast. However, instead of being pushed away by his rude behavior or lured by the comfort of warm chocolatey love, I got on the empty machine next to his and re-started my workout.

I was really pissed off. In fact, the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. After a minute I looked over at his machine and noticed his resistance level. I upped mine by five more. Then I watched his pace and went faster. I wasn’t going to let that little prick beat me! By the time I was done, I was dripping from head to toe. I haven’t had that kind of a work out in ages. My ass still hurts a little bit. And I owe it all to that nasty socially retarded pretty-boy gym brat. Now, I just have to figure out how to get him to infuriate me every day.

Anger isn’t a bad emotional response to things. In fact, it can be a really powerful force for positive change. Instead of being destructive or aggressive, we can choose to be productive … show the bastards they can’t control us! I sometimes think about a guy who did that in this country a number of years ago. He used a lot of people’s rage to influence change … generations of rage as a matter of fact. Honestly, have any of us been the same since Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. shared his dream? If an angry man like Dr. King can re-shape a country, I should be able to harness a little bit of personal vigor to tighten up my rump.


At 12:12 AM, Blogger Larry Jones said...

Would it be OK if I just spanked you?

At 1:17 AM, Blogger Miss Natalie said...

I don't understand those women that wear make up to the gym! It boggles my mind!

The gym is not a safe place, I did a combat class once and the girl next to me kicked me. SHE DIDN'T SAY SORRY! I wasn't paying $150 per month to be stuck in an over croweded smelling gym!

At 8:28 AM, Blogger Dick the Boomer said...

Great post! It would have been so easy to let your anger turn self destructive instead of positive. I don't blame you for being pissed. Next time you could get on the machine next to HIS, put on on some headphones and sing really loud during your workout.

At 8:55 AM, Blogger Spin_Doc1 said...

I love it when I can turn anger into a good workout! Good for You!

At 9:49 AM, Blogger ZooooM said...

I've encountered many an angry co-worker-outer, someone who thinks the machine is magically marked with their desire and once you get in there, it's on. I've never understood this.

Even my husband leaves me a note when he's not around to tell me what he needs.

I've seen things such as "I know you know I was wating for this machine." - and a silent stand off after that.

I'm the same unkempt girlie at the gym as you. Luckily, nobody I know goes to my gym.

I wish I thought about instances that make me angry as much as you did here.

At 5:49 PM, Blogger Aisha T. said...

Hehehe....I'll make sure not to get you angry if we take a boxing class together. I don't understand people that go to the gym with makeup on and their hair done. Usually, I'm in my yoga class with half my hair sticking out because I just rolled out of bed. Granted, i usually wake up around 10:30am slap some clothes on and run out but, I'm there to work, not get a date. I have to tote around my makeup bag and have my locker at work stocked with baby wipes (shower in a box), deodorant and a comb. Of course, as a yoga instructor, we encourage non-competitiveness and not to look at how advanced the person is next to you. Move at your own pace and listen to your body. Ironic because in most things, I'm extremely competitive.

At 6:56 PM, Blogger Ron Southern said...

If you'd told him to go fuck himself, you'd have gotten almost as angry and had the satisfaction of telling him what a dunce he was, too! I was looking forward to you lawn-mowering his ass. Wish I'd been there. I hate twerps and would risk a heart attack to kick one in the knee!

At 12:45 AM, Blogger Steve said...

Lust works the muscles pretty well too.

At 8:37 PM, Blogger Bougie Black Boy said...

my favorite part of all of this is that you call him a man-boy! I love it

At 9:15 AM, Blogger Imelda said...

Every time I had sex during the months after I left my husband I thought about all the times he had called me a fat, lazy, ugly cow. The anger was one hell of a big boost for my libido, and I ended up losing a whole lot of weight as a consequence.

When he asked for a reconciliation after I became desirable again, I once again harnessed the anger, but this time to say a big fat NO.

Use the Force, Sister!

At 12:36 AM, Blogger JayneSays said...

Great story; I love it when we can channel "negative" emotions for good results!

At 11:27 PM, Blogger No_the_game said...

Hello Dear!!!

Seems like it has being ages I put comment on your blog. Although I read it 3 times a week :)

Now let me get the post :) Nice post and I learned something from it. Yeap anger can be motivating :)

At 8:22 AM, Blogger Posters Anonymous said...

what a spoiled little prick! I wonder what he'd have done if you'd refused to get off the machine.


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