Tag Archives: butt

Adventures In Exercise


spin classSpin class, anyone? I have discovered your dirty little secret you Spin Class Divas. I fully understand how you suck people into your little cult. I went in to the room a virgin, in more than one way, and came out not needing another cervical exam for at least the next 4 years. I am talking about the seats. The teeny tiny bike seats. How do men take Spin Class???

When I was a little kid, and had to sit on my cousin’s lap in the car because it was the 70’s and it was just what happened in the 70’s, she would always, ALWAYS whine that my boney butt was digging into her thighs. It’s true. I have a boney ass. When I sit on the floor, I can roll on my butt bones, it’s like my only party trick. So, setting my boney ass on a small, hard bike seat was a rude awakening. Andddd…off we go!

First of all, I had no idea that there was a lever that I could adjust to change the speed. I started on 12 and was totally dying 5 minutes in. After about 15 minutes on 12, my daughter showed me the lever that would change the speed. Brilliant!! But trying to get my boney ass comfortable was the real issue.

I could go really fast but my butt!! I could stand up but the seat was angled so that I am pretty sure I won’t need a colorectal screening this year. And then there is the whole foot jail. Your feet go into these foot muzzles and that is a blessing and a curse. Like, if you forget your feet are being held captive and try to step down to rest, you will wind up falling sideways into the wall, which draws the exact amount of attention that no one wants. Especially from the super hot eunuch 3 bikes over…considering the pain I am in, there is no way he can be anatomically correct.

The lights are off, the music is loud, my thighs are on fire, I have NO idea what the numbers on the screen mean and the instructor keeps saying we should shift or stand or sit or that the mountain climb is coming up…I don’t know what all that means so I just keep pedaling thinking that the class is only 45 minutes. By minute 44, I am riding side saddle, dripping sweat into my eyes which makes it look like I am crying and trying so hard to balance in my foot prisons so I can take a sip of water.

I was consoling myself with the fact there would only be 1 more minute of this hell and then I can ask the instructor to get a shoe horn to help me get this bike seat out of my ass. Wrong. We blow by the 45 minute mark and she is saying something about “sprints”. I was so confused I started pedaling backwards…

Overall, it was fun…I rode a whole 15 miles in an hour. I used to ride 30 miles in like 15 minutes when I was a kid. The motivation was different but ya know… I used to ride my bike every single day. And if I had an uncomfortable seat, my Gramp would change it for me…I have a feeling I will be doing a walk of shame everywhere I go tomorrow and I know I am engaged to my bike. Haven’t felt this close to an inanimate object since that massage chair at the mani/pedi place in the mall.

Spin Class = Work Out or Make Out?

She Touched The Butt

Don't trust a butt massage by it's cover...

Don’t trust a butt massage by it’s cover…

I’m going to let you in on a few secrets that help keep me sane…I take ambien to sleep and I am addicted to pedicures. You might think that these two things are unrelated but, you would be wrong. And would you rather be right or would you rather be happy? Exactly. So, last night after I took my ambien, I bought a groupon for an hour foot massage. Why? Because I was trying to break my pedicure addiction and about 45 minutes after taking my ambien, I get purchasey.

My pedicure addiction began when I needed something to do when my kids went to their father’s  for the weekend. I was encouraged by all of my single mom pals to “do something for myself” and “enjoy having some alone time”. Two years later, I am worried that my toenails might fall off. Logically, I thought that just getting a foot massage without the clipping, filing, grating and acid bath might save my toes. What I wasn’t prepared for was losing my virginity. Ok, that’s an exaggeration…but you’ll understand once I tell you what all took place.

So, I have seen these “foot massage” places popping up recently around town. I pegged one of them as a “happy ending” sort of joint. A “rub and tug”. A “suck, bang, blow”. But what do I know really? I’m just a naive old lady who has watched way too many HBO shows. Last night a groupon pops up for a place right near the pedicure place for half off an hour foot massage with reflexology. That must be for me! I bought the shit out of that groupon and today, I went to Angel’s Reflexology Foot Massage Palace for an hour foot massage.

I’m horrible at getting massages. My body is always in pain and my mind never shuts up.  I make my daughter take a picture of me before I left, just in case I get kidnapped and sold into some sort of middle aged white lady sex massage ring or killed, but really just because I  liked my outfit and I wanted to remember it for next week when I go out with the girls. Off I go to possibly get molested!

I walk in and right there in the entry way are recliners with two people reclined in them both getting foot massages. Well, this is awkward. They put me into the chair next to them and take my glasses so I am now blind. I can see blurry shapes but that’s about it. They bring out a big bucket and stick my feet into it. Then the massage lady starts with my head. Not sure what that has to do with a foot massage but she’s the professional so…

She was massaging my face, focused on the sinuses and it was actually pretty good, except that I was holding in cackling laughs thinking about the faces she is making my face make when all of the sudden she pinches my nose closed. That’s never happened before. Just pinched my nose close. All the way closed. I was wondering if I was supposed to switch to breathing through my mouth, if this was some sort of weird sex game…but I wasn’t there for sex so I held my breath for as long as possible and then I just opened my mouth just a tiny bit and took a breath through the side. She let go. I think I won that round.

Next she grabbed my arm and smacked it. Hard. Then she massaged down my arm, hitting every trigger point on the way. She got to my stomach, put her hands on my pubic bone and gave it a pop. Huh. Not sure what that was about. She got to my legs and feet. My pants pushed up above my knees cutting off circulation which sort of defeats the purpose I suppose. She worked on one leg for a long time. Then the other leg and I thought that would be it. But oh was I wrong.

She told me to flip over. I was in a recliner. I was thinking this was going to be a super awkward position, laying on my stomach in a recliner. BUT, as I sat up she did some voodoo magic and a hole opened up right where my face goes. Unfortunately, it was just a round hole so my face went to far through and every time she massaged my shoulders she was accidentally (on purpose?) choking me. The second time in an hour my oxygen intake was being cut off. Kinky to you, annoying and a little concerning to me. Luckily it didn’t last long…she moved down my back and right to my butt. She touched the butt. Alot. So much butt touching. I have to assume that if I were a customer looking for some butt touching, this would have been heaven, butt touching heaven. Maybe if I had responded to being molested while face down in a recliner in a positive manor, I would have been allowed to go behind the beaded curtain where the music was slightly different (more bow chicka wow wow, less crickets and water dripping). But instead, I just laid there, face down, making incredulous faces at the floor, holding in my giggles and wondering how I get myself into these situations.

And then, she was done. And gone. And I was left to whale flip my body over and flop out of the recliner. The other two people who were there when I walked in had left with lots of loud talking and compliments and promises to be back the following week. I had to search for my glasses, find my purse and slink out the door. I felt slightly violated, very naughty and like I had a sneak peek at an odd, sub culture of massage palaces…I’ve been around the block a few times in this life, just not the block that had one of these massage palaces. I won’t say my life is now complete, I will say it was possibly the closest to 50 Shades that I will ever be. Just so you know, if you think it’s one of “those places”…it is. Trust yourself and hide your butt.