From the ground floor, I can hear Ace Hood’s Hustle Hard remix blaring from the speakers in the Hardcore Room two floors up. The rhythmical cguardianiscarpe relaxdaysstore geoxoutlet daysrelax loevenichhutkaufen uspoloassnscarpe ynotborse 24h-bottle mandarinaducksaldi donkeyluckycat akutrekkingshop tatascarpe harmonte-blaine geoxoutlet 24bottles langing of metal and the occasional strenuous groan from a (definitely) burdened champ serves as a crisp reminder of how late I am.
I never wear my wrist watch when coming here. So I fish out my phone to confirm my worries. It’s 10am. One hour late.
“Godammit!” I hiss, running up the flight of stairs with my tiny camo bag bouncing on my back, with my sneakers trying to hurt me; I deserve it. Straight to the changing rooms I go, hoping to sneak around quietly before anyone notices me.
See, the night before, I had sworn to be the first. The E-Z curl bar was probably still in its rack sulking and cursing my entire family tree for bringing forth such a loser! How could I lie so blatantly? It had been expecting to be in my palms at exactly 9am. An hour later and it still was in the uncomfortable upright position I left it when I left. I wouldn’t blame it if it thought humans are shady. We actually are. I steel am sorry.
With less than 50 minutes to save face, I walk out of the changing room in full work out regalia trying to hide the bulge on my crotch. For some reason, I had developed a boner while slipping into my sweatpants.
Ok. Not some reason. Truth is, she was around and had sent me a fine rear photo of her on the orange incline bench with her behind looking like 530 shades of Why-The-Fuck-Aren’t-You-Here-Yet. I am certain she had not seen me walk in. She was the last person I wanted to bump in. At least not before I am done with my deadlifts. That bar needs a clear path!
This woman scares me. Things she is capable of often make me consider solitude; but how can I stay away from sarcasm and wit bundled into so fine a body? And her gut in public is appalling, though I low-key cherish it. Thing is, she has this really naughty habit of asking me to help her work out just so she can rub her body against mine and send all my electrons into a frenzy. Sorry, testosterone. The she turns around sneaks a hand into my hot zones before looking me straight in the eyes, and saying things I have never heard and probably never will. How I’m I supposed to coordinate my sense of touch and hearing at the same time? It’s not like I have control over my body when she’s around.
***
The Hardcore Room
I leave my bag at the reception and rush to the cardio room for the brief warm up session, reminding the receptionist to get me a locker ASAP. After 5 minutes or of jogging and senseless exercise which my trainer insists I must do before going hardcore, I head over to the slaughter house. Or Hardcore Room as the newbies call it. The room where egos are bruised, muscles torn and backs snap. I call it the slaughter house for a reason!
Other than that other room I voluntarily entered immediately I become a teenager to go shed off some “baby skin” this is the only room whose door I swing every morning knowing very well that on the other side lies sweat, tears and pain! And as much as I hate it, staying away has never been an option. I am hardcore like that.
***
Too big
“Guys, this one is too big! Please get me a smaller one…” begs that familiar soothing voice as I turn the door knob. The laughter that follows immediately after convinces me to hold out a little longer and listen as I fight with my own welling outburst.
“Come on Ryan. You know I cannot handle what Solomon is giving me. Be a spot. Get me something smaller. One I can manage.” More laughter.
“Yeah Ryan! Give it to her!” bellows Solomon from the extreme end of the room before they resume their evil laughing spree.
“Is this one small enough? Does it fit well in your palms?” Ryan says feigning concern. But I can feel the sarcasm in his voice from where I am standing. And as if on cue, they all laugh again. She clicks her tongue. A tad too loudly, obviously not finding it funny. It is my time to shine.
So I turn the knob and walk in just before she tongue lashes these douches.
“Hey baby! Is this one good enough?” I ask pointing at my crotch. She smiles back. Devilishly.
“Yes! That will do just fine…”
“From the back? Just how you like it?” I interrupt her.
“Jesus Christ! Can you just use the head on your shoulders for once you schmuck? And while at it, get me a slimmer bar. This one is too wide.” She retorts, kicking the wide bar my way.
“She likes them slim!” shoots Solomon from his corner where he’s been doing his leg curls. We all laugh except her. That guy irks her.
Too short?
“Yeah right! Slim but long. And tall.” Comes the weaponised reply.
Everyone goes silent for a split second, before we all look at Solomon and laugh our mean hearts out. Standing at 5′ 2″, he is ever on the receiving end of short people jokes. And they piss him off.
“Okay madam. I will deal with you shortly” comes his muffed reply as he hits the 43rd curl.
One look at Ryan and we hold in our laughter.
“Like you have an option!” ripostes Mystery Woman as she arches her back to receive what I am offering. The slimmer bar.
I join you in not holding out. Sarcasm and wit makes a goat look a prince. Buddy for life. So what happens when that comes in a body well sculptured?