I have built myself a weekly flogging schedule with carefully mapped out personal training sessions and exercise classes to fit within a very OCD timetable. If I put forth half this much effort into other areas of my life I could actually achieve something. Every Saturday at 10 AM I roll into my favorite barre class taught by a Juilliard-trained Jedi butt master who ensures that I shan’t walk normally again til Monday. Such sweet torture. That is until two weeks ago when Equinox ushered in something called Gold Barre.
A party of 28 pain loving regulars was unamused.
Our new instructor droned on about Equinox, Tara Lipinski (Olympics? Nagano? Ring any bells?), a possible pyramid scheme, and something about figure skating. Ok, got it. Wait, what? Tara Lipinski’s new business venture has come in the form of a fake ice skating class at my gym.
You gotta get a gimmick. I once went to a Pole Dance class where they taught you to work a stripper pole. For fitness, not career. I suppose I can fake ice skate for health, but you guys gotta kill the Olympic commentary.
If you say another word about landing my triple axle,
I’m gonna hurt you with my imaginary toe pick.
Get deeper into your sit spin
I am hanging onto a barre for dear life in the basement of a Manhattan health club trying not to fall down or fart.
Nobody is in a sit spin.
This is just a room full of women trying to keep their butts from falling into their legs.
Let’s move on to camel spins
Nope, these are called leg lifts.
My goal here is not to score points with the Russian judge but to eliminate a significant portion
of the Pinot Noir I drank straight from the bottle last night.
Feel your skirt float in the breeze as you glide over the ice
I feel my Lululemon pants sweat-glued to my lady biz as 4 ceiling fans churn up the stank.
Push against the ice as you build speed
I would rather push your mouth closed and seal it with duct tape.
This is your chance to go for the gold!
Is ‘gold’ a metaphor for burgers and fries?
Oh, it’s not?
Then you need to shut up.
Look, I ate cake out of my garbage can last night…cake that had been in the garbage a full two days prior to the moment I fished it out and began shoving it into my face (It was wrapped in foil, okay?). God knows I need to burn all the calories I can. But I am not Oksana Baiul. I am simply a girl with a gym membership trying to stay out front of the tacos. And that should be enough.
We’re not going to the Olympics.