Tuesday, April 17, 2012

What can you do?
What do you do when not one, not two, but three men walk into your course for women's fitness? Well, don't ask me because this is what I did.

 I got super nervous for the choreography part and forgot the routine, how to count, and how to dance. It is a super long six minute Michael Jackson number that I stole from Carly and Janelle Zumba that they stole from Cornwall Zumba and I was so busy trying to make shimmying seem masculine that it came to an abrupt halt. We had to start over which meant the whole rest of the lesson was rushed because at Olympia the clock always wins, people. The first man is Antonio who is your classic heterosexual guy who takes three to four lessons a day just because he loves to dance. I have no problem making him shimmy. But then he brought this very joe shmoe serious looking guy who could work at your bank or your insurance office. I kept imagining him with a tie. It turned out later that he is a surfer who wants for his back not to blow out using heavy weights and machines. Lastly, there was a guy who is probably around 70 years old, although the receptionist described him as being old as the hills. He speaks every language. He is about three feet tall and looks like Danny DeVito. His back has been fused together with metal nails. He does not listen to instructions and is very proud. He kicked his tiny legs in the air in a madly dangerous way for a good half an hour, but I didn't dare correct him.

Right before we did sit ups at the end, he announced to the class of eight others that I should know that not everyone could follow me in doing these difficult exercises. I asked (cheekily) if it was because of my Italian. And he said, no, a person could vaguely follow my Italian. He said it was because the exercises are hard. I announced to the class that I know that he is the champion of the gym and if he doesn't like me I am ruined so I felt under a little pressure. Then there was what I imagined to be a sympathetic moment of silence. We did our final stretches and there was some very light and polite applause. After class he showed me some Chinese stretching exercises that involve holding your breath for ten seconds that he wants me to incorporate into Metamorfosi. I just might. When I could breathe again I talked him into paying 30 euros to sit at my table at the gala dinner on Thursday night, which I decided to go to at the last minute due to my waning popularity at Olympia Club as of late. He broke it to me that he was married. And that his wife takes yoga. Ah men!

Here is some other people in some other country doing the routine that I stole and failed to perform even though I did it successfully three other times yesterday:

No comments: