Why the Gym Makes Me Cry. Part 2

My friend asked me to go to a spinning class. Contrary to what you might believe, spinning class is not where you spin around in circles repeatedly until you throw up, which seems to me like  the most effective way to lose weight. Rather, it’s where you go to town on a stationary bike. And when I say go to town, I mean go to town.

Those spinning bikes are not like the regular exercise bikes. Fucking exercise bikes are chaise longues compared to spinning bikes. Spinning bikes are basically misshapen jungle gyms you have to straddle like a mechanical bull.

The worst part is the seat. It’s basically a shark tooth. There is no large flat surface area- which is universally agreed upon as the prerequisite for a seat. It’s a T-shaped hunk of hard plastic; there is no place for your butt cheeks to go so they flop to either side and what you’re left with is a penis shaped piece of plastic grating against your foul line. Which, actually does explain why spinning is so popular. Apparently I haven’t broken in my shoes, so to speak.

What my friend and I were discussing later, in serious tones as we skipped out of class early, was how men are able to do it. Where do the balls go? Where? Or the peen itself? My vag felt like I had just left a 3-day pap smear orgy by the time we were done. I don’t even want to know what it would be like if you had a penis. Ok, maybe for a day…

At certain points, the instructor asks you to stand up on your bike and you basically put your weight on the handlebars, which feel like sweaty dildos. When you stand up and pump your legs, the inevitable happens: your fine, soft butt meat slams against the point of the seat.

Imagine getting ass raped by a jackhammer. Or, that Woody Woodpecker lives in your pants and your butthole is made of wood.

By the way, the instructor is a fine Italian leather handbag with amazing legs and fake boobs. Her job is to spin like a fucking badass while blasting rap songs from the early 2000’s and yelling things through her microphone that you can’t hear over the music. 

*Note. This is an artistic interpretation. The instructor did not have four fingers on one hand and seven on the other. Drawing is not my strong suit.

Spin class was supposed to last for an hour. There were no clocks. We didn’t have our phones with us- even if we did, it would be impossible to check without falling off the bike. We exited the world of time. We were in an infinite dimension of spinning. I found myself silently praying to make it through. I admonished myself for being such a wimp and thought about how awful it must’ve been to live through the Holocaust. My fallback on comparison of human suffering is always the Holocaust. Whenever I experience pain or sadness, like a killer hangover or I missed 30 Rock, I say to myself, “Think of the Holocaust!” And I carry on. 

Alas my poor friend was only probably thinking about her husband’s reaction if he found out a spinning bike took her anal virginity before he did, and she looked at me with a face of a woman who was told to pick which of her children be sent to the gas chamber. She was in agony. 

I tried a half-assed fake smile as encouragement. For some reason, this didn’t work.

“Caaait,” she moaned. “We need…to…go.”

“Pick Elda,” I hissed. “She has that awful gas problem. She’s not meant for this world.”

I was dizzy and tired and mesmerized by the Cheeto with boobs. She was yelling things. We couldn’t leave. She was yelling!

“Caaait,” my friend whispered like people do in war movies when they’re dying. She was wilting like a Peep in the sun. 

“Ok,” I said, “We’ll leave.” We stumbled off the bikes and tried to sneak out, drawing as little attention to ourselves as possible.

That’s when the instructor said into her microphone, “Girls, can you please raise your seats before you go?”

Crap. We fumbled with the “seats” for about a minute, obviously clueless.

“If you can’t figure it out, don’t worry about it,” she said into the microphone.

Oh, God. Please stop saying things to us. We’re scared!

 We walk-ran out of there and caught our breath in the locker room. After that we went out for Gyros. They were awesome.