Gym Time

After a sore ankle, the snow, valentines day candy and a high stakes game of poker with my mummy friends using calories instead of betting chips, I need to get my ass back to the gym. I really enjoy going, but I don’t enjoy being schooled by the oldies.
In the aerobics classes, they know the routines better than I do, have trendier outfits and clap and cheer during some of the songs. In the weights class, they lift heavier weights than me, and in the swim aerobics class, they don’t want to make room for me in the pool. And actually, they don’t want to make room for me anywhere, because they have their favourite spots and that is that. I suppose that is the way they do everything, in their spot, get out of my spot, etc. My grandmothers are the same, it’s their way or the highway.
Some of them are friendly, sometimes the guys are super friendly, but some of the ladies are quite sullen. Should I smile and chat, or just get out of their way?
When I went to the water class for the first time, I think one of the old guys half-heartedly tried to feel me up, or at least talk it up to his buddies. Sheesh! Nothing actually happened, but it was like a group of 13 year old boys snickering together in a movie – embarrassing, a little bit lame, generally not cool. I haven’t been back in a hurry. I love being in the pool, but if the sullen old gals won’t move the heck over, I don’t want to risk getting too close to the jokers. What a conundrum, being shown up or felt up. Maybe I should just stick to the steppers, then I could kick everybody’s asses if it came down to it.


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