Spin class has become this decade’s equivalent to the arena rock concert sing along. You know the part in the show when the lead singer sticks the microphone out in the universal signal to get your whaling chorus on.
Sitting on my uncomfortable stationary bike this morning, the instructor had the freaking nerve to demand crowd participation during a horrendous remix of the timeless wedding line-dance, YMCA. ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!?
I’m paying good money each month to have some fruit loop bark at me to drop him some spirit fingers. I’m a man in mid-thigh bike shorts, shaved legs, sweating like a pig at a BBQ, and sporting a light blue bandana. To say the least, I'm having gender issues at this stage of the workout. Dis guy not do'n spirit fingers at half past absurdly early.
A note to all you fitness instructors and wood-be front men; if you want me to sing, pay my admission and I’ll sing like a spring canary. Until then, shut up and let me get my hurt on!
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