The Day I Almost DIED a.k.a My First Spin Class
I wanted to die.
I wanted to drop down on the floor, curl up in the foetal position and die until I am dead because spin class was sent here by Lucifer himself, to kill me, specifically.
I'd never done a spin class before, but I had high hopes after watching those tun up videos of it on Facebook with Keith Thompson of KTX Fitness, gassin’ a room full of bitches to twerk on a bike (you know the ones I’m taking about).
You see that spicy shit and I think, “Raaaaah, I wanna do that!”
No you fucking don’t! I mean…you should ‘cause it's good for you or whatever, but it’s not lit like them vids. *Gollum voice* He lied to us, Precious!
Lemme explain…
It was 6:45 in the morning when I shantay'd into Studio One of Fitness First, ready to do svelte heaux extraordinaire.
I was dressed in the finest of house clothes, paired with running shoes with old paint from Notting Hill Carnival 2015 trapped in the ventilation holes, and a bandana for a chic twist because life is a runway.
After awkwardly and noisily hauling my bike across the room (because my slow ass didn't clock that there were wheels at the front), I hopped on ready to ride the fat away...then I hopped back off because I am the height of a Christmas elf and had to readjust the seat.
There were four other women there, all clearly spin goddesses, in their form fitting lycra outfits and combed hair swept up into ponytails that swished behind them as they warmed up majestically without being prompted (despite the fact that we would have a warm up routine once the class began). I groaned internally –I was in a class full of gym bunnies.
I am not one of those bunny bitches; if you don't tell me to move, my ass will stay still. I’m not here to do extra-curricular activities. It's a survival technique called ‘You will have to kill me by force’. This is not the Hunger Games, my name is not Katniss Everdeen, I do not volunteer as tribute. I was there in some leggings with a 3-day-old hairstyle and a faded Nike t-shirt that needed to go in the bin; does that sound like a bitch who came to do the most or one who came to do the bare minimum? You decide.
The instructor saunters out and starts instructing, so I start moving like ‘Hey, this ain’t too bad…I mean the music is dead and nobody is twerking, but this is fine.’ Everything was hunky dory until she told us to do this fucking up and down business.
It was like this...but worse. Like 'please, just let me die' worse.
It did not feel how it looked on Facebook.
5 minutes in my eyes went to the clock and I was so upset that there was another 40 minutes to go.
I begun to wish that I'd eaten something before I got there. I was running on empty because my lazy ass (I had set 4 alarms to make sure I would wake up in time to eat something and then snoozed them all) stayed in bed and got up in time to throw on my haute couture, brush my teeth and go on Twitter (because if I wake up this early to go to the gym it must be announced for all to see my new level of dedication...so they can scroll past it to more interesting tweets that they actually give a shit about).
Priorities.
The torture continued and I was convinced that the instructor had written my name in her Death Note (if you know, you know) book, because she came over to me and cranked the resistance all the way up.
Could. I. Pedal?
I tried to firm it, I swear I did, but then she wanted us to stand up and ride on this high resistance shit with our fucking arms in the air. Bitch, I almost dropped off the bike 3 times –that’s not even for comedic purposes, I really did. I was a mess and I knew it, so to save myself any further embarrassment, a heaux just sat down and leisurely sipped my water, hoping she'd jump to the next section swiftly because I’d had enough of that shit.
Suddenly the gym bunnies started doing Moulin Rouge: Fitness Edition, and backed off their tops to reveal toned, glistening abs and perky boobs in their sports bras.
I’m sipping tap water in faded house clothes with uncombed hair, sweating and not pedalling.
You know when you just hate people? Like, I'm the only plush pal in the place and I can't keep up -I already look bad enough, so why make it worse plis?
The instructor is yelling out words of encouragement to the class, but high key I knew it was just for me. I was blatantly the shit one of the group and it was getting on my nerves.
"You won't burn fat if your resistance is low!”
“Bums off the seat!”
“Keep the tempo!"
Bitch, give me a break –shit! You can see I’m a big bitch; this is my first trip to hell, ease me into it. I kinda feel like spin class is the fitness equivalent to anal sex; apparently it's really good once you get used to it, but it's painful as fuck first.
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Did she give me a break? No! Why? Because she is a terrible person (I’m playing, she’s actually mad safe…but for the purpose of this post she is Satan’s wife…lemme explain). She gave us weights so that we had to ride and lift as the same fucking time. My upset increased tenfold. THIS IS ALREADY DIFFICULT!
With half an hour to go my eyes started going from the clock to the door as I struggled to pedal on the devil’s instrument. It got so peak for me that the instructor actually asked me if I had asthma ‘cause I was breathing so hard.
I wanted to do a Princess.
NO, I DON’T HAVE ASTHMA, BITCH I’M JUST FAT! Asthma you know! I don’t think you lot are actually deeping the shame; do you know how heavily you have to breathe for someone to ask you if you have fucking ASTHMA?!
Oh Lort! And in front of the glistening, toned, swishy haired gym bunnies.
BITCH, AHSWEDDAGHAD…
I rode that bike like it was an erect penis, ‘cause you ain’t about to ask me if I have no fucking lung condition. I had to give myself a mini pep talk, like, 'Bitch, this is the shit that will get your shit correct. I thought you was a bad bitch? Skinny bitch 20 mutha fuckin’ 17, bitch. Think of all the fly shit you will be able to fit into so you can stunt on these heauxs. Keep fucking going.' Then I looked at my struggling, sweating body in the mirror and did the neekiest thing I could do…I made up a damn chant for myself (Skinny bitch. Skinny bitch. Skinny bitch 2017!) It was basic as hell, but it worked.
With 15 minutes left to go, she said it was time to get off the bike and do abs *groans loudly*. I hate abs, but I hated that damn bike even more. The seats are hard and made my ass sore. It was like punishment for sitting down when I knew damn well I was meant to be hovering over it like the rest of the class. I dismounted, got on that mat and went back into survival mode -heaux, I didn't move until it was time, but when the time came...
The first few leg raises were calm but then the ache started to set in and my eyes went right back to the clock.
They were doing some extra-curricular fitness shit that I had never seen before. Some of the exercises I didn't even bother to try. You ever looked at something and thought, ‘This is some skinny bitch shit!’?
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At that point in time I’d only been attending the gym for one month, so I just observed because my ass was not there yet. I knew I was being watched but by that time I didn't care. These times I was ready to leave five minutes into the warm up lol.
THEN, my upset went up ten levels when in the middle of planking one of those bunny bitches farted, but it was silent so no one knew who it was. The room already smelled like sweat and regret and one of those heaux’s added the scintillating odour of decomposing broccoli.
Rage.
The class finished (hallelu) and the instructor asked me how I found it.
"It was horrible."
I'm not gonna pretend I had fun and say, “Thank you, see you next week!” like these other heaux’s, ‘cause bitch, that is a promise hard to keep. You may never see me again -I'm kidding (sort of). I will go back...at some point…maybe...
Spin classes are legit the worst thing to ever exist, but after I hobbled out of there I was so glad that I'd done it. I'd challenged my body waaaaay outside of its comfort zone and I didn't die…even though as the title of this post suggests, I was very close to it. I felt like I got trampled by an elephant the next day *sings Beyoncé 'Pretty Hurts'*.
Since then I have only done five more spin classes. I know, it’s bad, but they’re really just not fun for me, and as someone who doesn't love exercise, I have to enjoy it to some extent otherwise, bye! I don't know if it's the class I went to, but it just didn't work for me and I really want it to because spin is a fast and highly effective way to drop the pounds and tone up.
Have you ever tried a spin class and if so, how did you find it? Lemme know in the comments.
Until next time, fancy face
Love Scotty x
P.S. If you guys know of any LIT spin classes, let your girl know. I will legit come with you.
Click the image below to read my previous #SvelteHeaux2017 post ‘BINGE EATING GUILT’
