It is seven am. I have been up for an hour, had coffee, watched the news, showered, brushed my pearlies, and even after all of this I am still half asleep. Nevertheless, I am sitting on my spin bike ready to sweat our last night’s wine toxins and get my stress out on this damn bike. The instructor turns off the lights, only a few dimly lit ceiling lights softly glow. The door to the spin room is closed tight and the club-hopping-dance-tunes and instructors inspirational (or not) ‘get those butts moving’ commands fly. I become transfixed by the music, and start to feel like the stress of LA life is shedding of my shoulders as my body starts to sweat and my muscles start to work. It’s exhilarating….until…….
Thirty eight minutes into the class in a room made hot and sticky from the thirty or so bodies sweating it out, it happens……someone lets out a fart. Not just a regular fart which is still gross, but a ‘sick fart’. A ‘sick fart’ – the one that smells like vomit and feces met and married and on the way to their honeymoon they hit a skunk – a ‘sick fart’….someone let out a ‘sick fart’. The kind of ‘sick fart’ that makes you think that the fart culprit in your class is truly near death, because that kind of vile body odor can’t possible excrete itself from a healthy body…absolutely impossible.
As the ‘sick fart’ wafts its way around the room, each class participant giving the person sitting next to them the ‘shocked facial look’ to hopefully reinforce the fact that it wasn’t them that leaked this toxic gas into the class, a breath holding me prays that the horror passes quickly. The energy in the spin class quickly goes from intoxicating to toxic-hating. By the time the class ends the ‘sick fart’ has been absorbed into the air and I hope that by holding my breath I have limited my exposure to the toxic gas– albeit invisible toxic gas – that I was unfortunately exposed to.
In Los Angeles you only have two choices of gyms; the high priced exclusive all inclusive club whose monthly dues are higher than most people’s car payment; or a nationwide chain gym whose monthly dues maybe only cost you the price of a glass of wine at the Four Seasons. I somehow justify my expensive gym membership because I use it every day, and it is sort of like…hmmm…well…..it is sort of like once you wear a pair of Prada shoes you can’t go back to Nine West. It just doesn’t happen. So once you are working out in a world class facility, you suck it up and pay. Such is life. However, a high end gym does not unfortunately mean that its participants are all ‘sick fart’ and odor free. So if you are reading this and are guilty of any of the subsequent infractions; please consider the following:
- If you wake up and your cup of Jo doesn’t help eliminate the possibility that a ‘sick fart’ will somehow escape your tightly clenched butt cheeks…just don’t do it…don’t listen to Nike……skip spin this day….
- If you are trying to find an excuse to talk to me and ask to work-in with me, and if your breath smells like rotten meat you are going to make me gag. Even if you are cute, I am not ever going to want to date you – not ever. So please, phhhlease…brush your teeth in the morning.
- Guess what? If you wore your clothes the day before and forgot to change your smelly gym clothes out of your gym bag so this morning so you decide to wear them again….Guess what? Your clothes stink and so do you. How you can’t smell them is beyond me, so best to stay in a 15 foot distance from other gym members on days like this, or better yet…go home and get clean ones, I mean… really….?
- Deodorant – wear it! Because when you lift up your arms and I am sitting beside you on the spin bike or next to you at a weight machine, I truly don’t want my air space populated with your body odor. Countries fight over air space; don’t I have the right to odor free air too?
- And lastly, heavy colognes although sexy at night will make me run from you in the morning….run as fast as my little legs will go. So if you come near me and I run the other direction, it is not because I want be chased in that ‘boy chases girl boy gets girl’ caveman mentality, it’s because your overpowering cologne mixed with sweat will either give me a killer headache or make me nauseous – so running away is my only option.
And the moral of this story is…we all can be guilty of the above infractions from time to time – such is life…..however, if you are a repeat offender I hope this helps to clarify why you might not be making any gym buddies any time soon!
A Happy Janell Spinning in a Fart Free Stink Free Zone!