I’m not the best at exercise. I go to the gym a few times a week, but I rarely ever look forward to it. It’s more just something I do so that I don’t eventually have to wear a seat-belt extender on a plane and so I live long enough to see my grandchildren have children of their own. But I do look forward to classes at the gym every once in a while. I attend one class called Body Combat that is 60 minutes of nonstop cardio. I often find myself pretending to be Sydney Bristow from Alias or Katniss from the Hunger Games to give myself a little more edge in class. Whatever, it works. I like Body Combat because it requires no thought or planning on my part… I just show up, mimic the instructor (to the best of my ability), and dread how sore I’ll be the following day.
I took Body Combat a few months ago with my friend Lindsay, which always makes the class more entertaining. We can roll our eyes at the girls wearing only a sports bra and spandex (we get it, you’re hot), laugh at each other’s mistakes (often), and together we can count down the minutes until class is over. Another female instructor was filling in for our regular girl on this particular day and she was extra perky. If I closed my eyes, she sounded just like Dora the Explorer. “We can do this!” “We can do anything if we do it together!” “Let’s do this team!” “Donde esta mi mochila?!” Okay, not the last one. But seriously… team? I don’t even know these people. I get it though, some people like a cheerleader type to push them through a workout… those who know me know that I don’t respond well to overexcited motivational bits at the gym (ahem, Firas). I guess I’m just a body combrat. Sorry, had to do it.
Anyways, we got to a certain routine that involved turning our bodies to the side, slightly bending our knees, and slicing the air with our right hand. I was shocked when the instructor said, “Straight for the scrotum! Aim for the scrotum!” I felt super awkward considering there was a man in front of me, and our other instructor had never been specific about the damage we were doing with these combat moves. I also didn’t understand how a man’s scrotum could possibly be at the level of my arm, so I continued to squat lower and lower to make it more realistic. Not easy, and kind of disturbing.
A few days later, Lindsay and I were talking about Body Combat to a few co-workers and I mentioned to her that I had told Firas about the scrotum experience. I told her that Firas was appalled and said, “SEE?! That is why I am never taking one of those classes with you – they’re clearly designed for women only!” This is when Lindsay interjected and said, “Oh my God, Jaclyn…. THE STERNUM, AIM FOR THE STERNUM!”