I Tried Crossfit™....

Genteel Reader;

I have not updated this blog for quite some days, because I have been utterly losing my religion over the last week or so!  The story I am about to relay to you is not for those with a highly astute sense of decorum (it involves poop,) so please don't continue perusing this entry if you're prone to bowel problems when upset.  

Basically, I decided I had to quit my gymnasium, or at least that's where this all starts.  Basically, I felt so disrespected by having a little brat ruin the laptop I use for research and then being intimidated by The Ice Queen afterward that I wanted to really stick it to them.  I called a lawyer and he had the god-damn nerve to say I was lucky they hadn't sued ME over the alleged incident before very rudely laughing in my ear.  He was being an asshole, as attorneys are wont to be. After slamming down the phone, I paused and thought with logic and intelligence, and realized the only thing left to do was go stomping in and quit!  

When I got to the gymnasium parking lot, I spent several minutes deep-breathing and lathering myself into all kinds of a tizzy, rehearsing all the mean things I was going to say/write on my "I quit" card.  I got out of my Prius and slammed the door, not caring that I had dented the paint on the vehicle next to me.  Angrily, I went stomping into the lobby and told the receptionist I was quitting "NOW!"  I sat and scowled at him while he stared at me with a smug look of amusement, then picked up the phone to call the person whose job it is to help people quit.  

I feel a shadow over my shoulder.  My knees grow weak and my eyes start to water.  I turn around to see The Ice Queen, beaming at me with a smile that chills me to my core. 

"What seems to be going on?" she asks in a way that is at once sunny and earnest.  I am confused, completely off my intellectual equilibrium.  My tirade evaporates in my mind.  I had come in expecting a cathartic confrontation, and she is being pleasant.  The wicked bitch.  I find myself scrambling, using all my intellectual to get this fabricated tantrum back on track.  She is being so kind.  I fucking hate her.  I am trying so hard not to look down her shirt.  

"I don't get very good workouts here." I reply.  That is all I can manage.  After all the pre pondered tantrum I had built up inside me, this was what was coming out.  I am utterly and completely without power.  I have no negotiating fulcrum.  I feel my cheeks flush with mortification, and Ice Queen smirks a condescending smirk, knowing she's won.  "Have you tried our Crossfit™ class?"...

That afternoon, I am in my sweatpants surrounded by skinny people with this contrived, whatever - smile, none of whom have probably ever even read a work of classical fiction, like mine.  Ice Queen actually met me at the door and escorted me to the class.  This irritatingly perky MILF explains we're going to be doing something called the WOD, and right away people start doing power cleans, pull ups  and running back and forth on the gymnasium floor, cheering each other on like a bunch of cheery, idiot apes on crack. It's so overt that it smacks of insincerity.  

Everytime I try to quit, they come over and start taunting me, things like "You can do it!" and "keep it up!"  To show them their bullying does not effect me, I continue to perform the exercises.  If these droll idiots can crank this out, surely a rotund genius such as myself certainly can too. 

I feel a rumbling in my tummy I know all too well. My ego has surpassed my abilities, and these pissant idiots, with their smiling and encouragement have pushed me to my limits.  I need to quit.  I need to stop and get to a toilet as fast as I can.  But I am all dizzy, the room is spinning and I can't focus. All I see are the various exercises as I perform them and my fellow Crossfit™ denizens with their encouraging and jeering.  I start screaming at the top of my lungs as loudly as I can, "I'm sensitive!"  It's all I can muster.  I scream it again and again and again. The rumbling in my tummy must be contained!  

I start for the door, oh my kingdom for a toilet!  Some perky dick gets in my way, "Just two more to go, you can make it!"  I kick him in the shin as hard as I can, and the rest retreat in wide-eyed surprise.  I am almost at the door.  The world is blurry.  I trip and fall.  I catch myself, and on the way out, I feel myself cut a little fart. 

Except it's not a fart at all, and I feel that fart running down my leg.  I am mortified to admit this, but the truth about the bullies at Crossfit™ must be told!  They made me perform calisthenics until I shat myself, and didn't listen when I tried to tell them I was sensitive.  I did not even try to go to the restroom.  I just went running out, cursing the fact that the elastic on my sweatpants was very effectively blousing my sweatpants around my chubby cankles.  The good news is I called that lawyer back, and after agreeing to a tidy sum (which will be nothing once I am a famous author,) he agreed to press my lawsuit against the gymnasium because I suffered emotional damage from being made to work out until I crapped my pants.  

That is my tizzy, my literary tantrum, and I thank those of you genteel enough to take the time to read through the whole thing.  I am currently accepting gift baskets, flowers, and other forms of well wishing, provided that they contain organically grown and ethically farmed produce only.  Any sympathy cards must be printed on ethically sourced recycled stationary only!!  I thank you in advance for your kind condolences.