New Year, No Fear…?
The first week of my brand-spanking-New-Year’s-resolution gym membership, I decided to try out one of the free classes offered, Sweat Box. I thought it would be a mix between bikram-esque hot yoga and boot camp style aerobics with skinny, yuppie moms and twenty year old biddies. At least, that’s what I wanted it to be…
Walking into the studio, I was greeted by a fleet of women in uniform: red and black v-neck sport bra tops with matching spandex shorts and pants with the official “Sweat Box” logo embroidered on. Bad sign—Sweat Box is a “thing,” not just the name of an aerobics class. The women all boasted strong core and quad muscles and milled around the punching bags; they obviously shared a passion for endorphins and protein shakes.
To put it perfectly, I felt like I was a new inmate in a woman’s penitentiary. One of the “advanced” girls in uniform even took me under her wing and showed me the proper techniques for all the moves.
Horrified before class had even begun, I made myself stick it out through the air humping, shimmying, one-on-one boxing station, and endless minutes of mountain climbers, among other quad-burning exercises. The lead man with the hands-free microphone even praised me, by name, for my “efforts” over the loud-speaker multiple times throughout the session. I stood out like a sore thumb.
Did I sweat? Not excessively, but I was sore for about a week, which is probably what your first week in prison would feel like…save for the fact that I didn’t have to worry about becoming somebody’s “bitch.” I suggest you go out and try a class…I’m still scared of it, but I will be going back!
Posted by Hannah