I have a girl crush on my Wednesday morning spinning instructor. I’ve been attending her class since February (maybe she’ll bring me something in celebration of our year anniversary!) and it’s my absolute favorite gym trip of the week. She’s challenging, empowering and, let me tell you, music selection can make or break a class, and she consistently delivers a stellar set list. I’ve often thought about bringing in paper to jot down songs for later iTuning, but I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of my beloved. Or stop spinning to write, for that matter.
Usually she wears long cycling pants, but last week she rolled in with shorts on. I wouldn’t normally have noticed, except that I spied a rather large, crooked tattoo of a black bicycle across her left calf muscle. Woah. Woooah. I mean, is this what guys feel like when they’re makin’ out with a new girl and they suddenly find a HOLY-WHO-PUT-THAT-THERE tattoo staring back at them?
My face fell with disappointment. I wanted to say, “No, Spin Goddess. No. Bad idea.” This week I showed up to class hoping it would be gone, that it was maybe a *temporary* thing, applied… for… a bike party?!? A spinners pot luck?!? Alas, there it was. And still crooked. Once you fall from cool it takes a lot to right-size yourself.
BUT – I’m nothing if not loyal. And she played extra-good music yesterday (to win me back?). OK. OK. Break-up averted. Our relationship is strong enough to endure the miles of rough imaginary road ahead.