This Is Just Not Working Out
Shaun T., I despise you. Jillian Michaels, I don’t like you either.
I’m sure neither of you are terrible people—you might even actually be lovely human beings. But I just can’t help but hate anyone who’s a fitness video instructor.
It’s not the fact that your abs are more clearly defined than the lines in my high school math book that bothers me. Nor is it your ability to actually articulate words throughout the entirety of a lung-wrenching cardio saga.
No, I just hate the way you speak to me, like the experience we are sharing via my laptop, awkwardly propped up on my windowsill—so I can follow your instructions, while doing pushups—is in any way pleasant. Please, just recognize you are a last resort. You are far from a first-choice method of fitness training.
Look, I love working out, sweating, endorphins and all that jazz. But I sure as hell don’t think forgoing all pride jumping around in my bedroom, on my slanted floor, constantly dodging my desk/wall/lamp to avoid being seen by all of St. Denis St. through my window is any kind of enjoyable.
Stop telling me how great I look while being an obstacle-dodging, out-of-breath buffoon—we both know it’s a lie.
Also, you completely disregard the fact that I have roommates. Yelling, “Mmmmm, love the pain!” or “So, close!” as I’m heaving doesn’t sound great from the other side of my door. C’mon, you’re just making it worse.
Current Affairs Editor