Sadism, Sisu, or Stupidity?
@ 4:20 pm I just got home from the gulag, otherwise known as Motivus, the mild gag reflex inducing, but economic gym with several locations in Helsinki. I find the gym to be quite boring, but I do enjoy aerobics classes, especially anything with good music and kind of a dance theme going on. I did ballet for about 10 years until I got these horrible things called hips and breasts, and height-wise, stopped growing at about 14, and that was the end of my dream of being a tall, graceful ballerina. But I digress. Spinning is ok, pretty boring after the first 30 minutes, but also my least embarrassing choice, where I am least likely to assault someone.
If I knew more about winter sports, maybe I wouldn’t be so limited to the gym, and it’s not like I’m just a gym junkie or something, but I really need to go a few times a week for 1) stress, and 2) to help keep my thyroid in check along with medication and balanced diet.
Now, today, I thought I was being clever and outsmarting the system after a disastrous day at Motivus yesterday.
Yesterday, I was accused of abusing the reservation system, and now am not allowed to reserve a course for the next 60 days. That means I just have to try my luck at getting a place in the next 10 classes that I’ve already paid for, because I wasn´t totally sure of the rules or the way the reservation system works after repeatedly asking how to manage my sometimes 4 reservations a week just for a chance to get a spot in one of the aerobics classes. And if you’ve been to Motivus, you know that sardines have more luxury and space in their tins than people do in a friggin gym class. So that was my first black mark of the day yesterday.
Then, in the Body Pump class, my first time in a long time due to past embarassing incidents, between the Finnish, weights, changing weights, steps, handweights, bars, and rapid machine gun fire commands, I ended up assaulting the gorgeous man in front of me, by not attaching my weight correctly, and it fell off, and didn’t manage to completely smash his face, as we were all lying on our backs, but it hit his shoulder and rolled off and knocked over his water bottle. Three minutes later, while doing lunges, I step on the girl behind me, and I mean, I stomped her foot off, and when I did my lame little Finglish, ¨sorri!¨ she just muttered a ¨VOI perkele,¨ and gave me the look, which I imagine to mean, ¨Bitch, I hope you choke on your smoothie after class, your boyfriend dumps you and your ass turns into raejuusto,¨ but luckily I don´t have a boyfriend and my ass already feels a little raejuusto, and I had my smoothie before class so, whatever, she had nothing on me.
All of these accusations piled neatly at my feet, and all I can do is give the blank deer in headlights stare, and say, “Anteeksi, oli mun ensimainen kertoa!” which doesn’t quite explain my ridiculous antics.
It’s not that I don’t understand: yksi, kaksi, kolme, nelja, TUPLA!, ylös, alas, SUPERPUMPPI!!!, oikealla, TAAS! vasemalla, y, ka, ko, SPORTTI!
But somehow, listening to that, while doing the grape-vine, tupla A ja V, jumping jacks, and these flying, clapping, side leaps that somewhat resemble a grand jete, means that at least 5 people are going to sustain an injury, and most likely they are going to be the people in my immediate surroundings.
But anyway, I was going to outsmart the system. I picked a class I had never been to, on a Sunday before 1 pm, and I figured I would have the whole class to myself. It would practically be a private lesson.
Not only was every girl from Punavuori to Hyvinkää there, even though half of them looked like they had giant krapulas and had just rolled out of the bar, there were so many old milfy ladies that made Barbie look like the cheap plastic whore that she is! They were all fierce, and while I was moaning on the floor, dying from measly girl style push ups, the 6o something year old in front of me was doing them with one hand. You feel even more ridiculous when the music changes from trance-rave music to ABBA to Ramstein, and back to Britney Spears, yes, in that kind of order. I decided a more appropriate name for the RVP-Muokkaus class would be “Guantanamo style non-consensual sodomy,” both for me and the people who are kicked, trampled, slapped, and have weights thrown at them, on account of me being a kielitaidaton.
And yet, I keep going back for more.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_fCqg92qks
