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Working Out With My Gram Grams

I’d like to talk to someone about getting a punch card, please.

“Ok. I can help you with that. What questions do you have?”

…I would like to know if I can get a punch card, please?

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. People just usually have questions about how the punch card works.”

I mean…I come to a class and you punch the card…until I run out of…punches…right…?

“Yep. Exactly.”

…ok…can I get a punch card, please?


I’m very intelligent.

“You are…”



Nope. You said ‘you are’ with a period and not a question mark. You were saying I was intelligent. Not asking for my name.



I am, though. Intelligent…

So, I got my punch card.

And said I’d like to try the Mix 45 class starting at 9:50.

And just as I assumed. Even had I not verified with questions. Dude punched the punch card.

And then I went upstairs. And stood outside of the room for class. Waiting for the previous class to finish.

And I don’t know what they were doing in there. But all I heard was really loud music and a lot of “Wooing.”

Like, every 15 seconds. Woo!

Then the frequency increased. To every ten seconds. Then every five.




And I was starting to wonder. If I was in the right place.

Because it was 9:48.

And they weren’t showing any signs of finishing up.

Then. At 9:49. Suddenly some woman comes running out of the room. Like she’s barely escaping with her life.

And the music stops.

And I hesitated.

Fuck. Do I go in here? Or do I follow the panicked kidnapping escapee? What is my level of responsibility here?

But then I saw the door she ran through.



Pee while you can.

So I cautiously walk in to the fitness room.

And everyone turns to me.

Is this the Mix 45 class?

“Yes! Welcome! We were just finishing up the cardio portion and getting ready to start the strength training portion!”

I waited for a WOO! But that never came.

Y’all just did an hour of cardio…?

I looked around at everyone’s set up. Step. Mats. Dumbbells. Barbell. Bands.

I walked towards the barbells.

So…do I need…?

And then out of nowhere. I was swarmed by little old gram grams. Setting up my station. Like a bunch of Christmas elves. In a matter of seconds. I had a full station.

I’ve never felt so loved and cared for.

And my slow ass is still trying to pick out an appropriate barbell weight.

So one of the little elderly gram gram elves tried to help me. By pointing to a heavy barbell.

Oh. No. I haven’t done this class before. That seems like a bad…

“Ok. How about this one.”

She didn’t say “pansy ass” as she pointed to the lightest weight. But I’m pretty sure it was implied.

I couldn’t just punk out in front of gram gram like that.

So I picked up a middle weight.

How about this one?

I couldn’t go wrong with 15 lbs.

Could I?

Gram gram seemed to approve.

So we could all get back to business.

These ladies had strength training to take care of.

The music was on point. A solid soundtrack of my late high school and early college years.

And we started with squats and leg work.

So easy.

But then.

“Put down the barbells. It’s time to dance, ladies!”

And holy hell.

Salt and Peppa started rapping about pushing it.

And these ladies. Led by this super happy dude. Absolutely fucking pushed it.

I was surrounded by gram grams. Just twerking their asses of.

And fuck if I didn’t do my best to keep up with them.

I have never been so in love with a workout.

But then dude made us pick all the weights back up. And do all this arm shit.

And I was regretting not taking the lightest weight that gram gram offered me.

But none of the other elderlies was struggling.

So I kept pushing through.

Until dude finally. After several minutes of ab work. Told us to just lie down. On the super cushy mats. And relax.


So, a solid workout.

Filled with love. And support. And…twerking…

Then I got to leg day. At PlayFITStayFIT.

And before class even started…

My hip…

Because Mini Major was showing us how she can do cartwheels.

And my 46 year old dumbass. Not to be outdone by a four year old. Cartwheeled.

Just cold start gymnastics.

No warm up.

No stretching.

Just went all in on a maneuver that my hips. That can barely manage to stay in their sockets on a normal day. Were absolutely not prepared for.

Well, this is a solid start to leg day.

Spent the last ten minutes before class pigeon posing and shit. To try to calm my hip the fuck down.

And then class.

Partner workout.

Because of course it is.

And we had an odd number.

Because of course we did.

And so J-Vicious partnered everyone up.

And…ok…introverts like me hate having to pick partners. We always have. It goes back to our school days. When everyone else got picked before us. And we were left standing around waiting for the teacher to say, “ok who’s left?” And then pair us up.

So, in that respect, I appreciate J-V handling the partnering up.


“And Sunshine is with me and Gold Star.”

Because of course I was.

(For the record, I did not give him that nickname. That is his gym nickname. I don’t ask questions.)

And with the partner workout. You get to rest. If you finish your exercises before your partner. Or in my case, partners. Finish theirs.

Needless to say I didn’t get to rest.

Suddenly I was missing the love and support and comfort of my gram grams.

J-V and Gold Star just heckled me. And made fun of me.

Because reverse lunges are bullshit. They are impossible to do correctly.

I’m pretty sure what I was doing was something akin to a backwards tiptoe.

I kept waiting for Pink Panther music to come on.

“What size are those weights??”

Fifteen. What.

“What size is the other one?”

Fift- shit. Twenty. Huh.

“How do you not notice that?”

“Could be why she’s listing to the right so much.”

I mean, they were right beside each other on the rack…

I’m an intelligent person…



Just reading and writing and running and looking for my happy place.

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