The day had been long, and the last place I wanted to be was the gym, but my mind hadn't stopped swirling since my new intake. As I walked to Windy City Gym, I hoped this class would be more challenging for once. Nighttime was the hardest part of the day for me. The more physically exhausted I was, the easier it was to sleep. Otherwise, I'd stay up for hours running everything over in my head. It had already been three tireless nights of this, and I just needed a fucking break.
Changing into my barre-approved gear, I slipped on the unique grip socks made for these classes. There was a lot of chatter around me, but I tuned it out. I was operating on autopilot by this time of the day, having used all of my energy in my sessions. I didn't know as many people in the night classes, which made it easier to fade into the crowd.
Stretching, I grabbed my water bottle and equipment before heading to my favorite spot on the barre. Just before I got there, I was elbowed out of the way as a redhead sauntered right up to my place. Bitch. On second thought, I remembered why I hated coming to class at this time. It was filled with the cliquey bitches who saw me as what not to become. Divorced. The early morning ladies were at least nice to my face.
Not having enough energy to care tonight, I turned to find a different place, but by the time I'd walked in and been shoved, all the best spots were taken. The only one left was on the short sidebar by the door. Fucking bitches, all of them.
Throwing my shit on the floor, I was debating if I even wanted to stay at this point. An uncommon feeling was starting to rise in me as well. Anger. When I stood up, I caught sight of the hot trainer I would often watch. There was something about his brashness that captivated me, even if I didn't understand why. He was working with someone on the bench press, so his back was turned to me. The barre instructor started listing off positions to begin over the speakers, so I returned my focus to the class.
"Squeeze, tuck, and hold. Higher on those toes, ladies."
Lifting up, I held the pose, my hands resting on the barre, as I breathed.
"Tuck and hold. Tuck and hold. Release."
Falling from the plank position, I was glad the class was almost over.
"Touch those toes, come on, you can do it!"
Finally, it was cool down. I was about to rip the microphone off her head and shove it up her ass if she said ‘tuck and hold' one more damn time. I swear, only sadists became instructors. Ordinary people didn't get off on this shit! Of course, I paid for it, so what did that say about me? It was becoming increasingly obvious I had a lot more aggression coursing through me today than usual. This class had done nothing to calm it either.
"Deep breaths. Alright, ladies. Great job today! Way to tuck and hold!"
It was like she wanted me to hurt her! Grumbling under my breath, I commented how I wanted to tattoo ‘tuck and hold' on her forehead causing the girl next to me to laugh. Oops, guess I wasn't as quiet as I thought. Grimacing, I turned to her expecting to get the bitchy girl treatment, but surprisingly, she had a friendly demeanor about her.
"Hi, I'm Katie. Sorry to eavesdrop, but I agree with you. Pain and torture should be rained down on the instructors. Do you think they send them to torture 101 before becoming an instructor?"
"Seems accurate," I replied, a brief smile pulling at my lips. Laughing together at our snark, I decided to try and be friendly. Couldn't hurt, right?
"I'm Loren. And you make a valid observation. I think I even saw her smirk on the last one. She definitely gets a sick pleasure from it."
We both laughed again as we disinfected our barre area and equipment. People assumed a barre class wouldn't be a workout, but I often sweated more in these than I did in aerobics. As we wiped down our things, the awkward pause after you had nothing else to say fell upon us.
"Well, I guess I'll see you around. Nice sharing the torture with you."
"You too," I responded to her back as she walked away. Well, I had tried to be sociable.
Heading to my locker, I ignored the chatter of the other women, their gazes heavy on me as I quickly changed into my warmer clothes. I could feel the weight of their stares pressing into me, a reminder that I wasn't whole. My mind whirled, and the need to get out of this locker room rose. The feeling of failure sat heavy on my chest, constricting my oxygen. Combined with the feeling of overwhelming judgment for stepping out of my comfort zone. The emotions crashed into me and all the memories flooded my brain.
"How stupid could you be, Loren?" A crash followed his words as he threw the pot into the sink. I'd mixed up the recipe, and dinner had been ruined. Brian was upset, and the fact I was a horrible wife was reinforced. Quietly, I curled into the corner of the couch and blocked out all the noise.
"Loren, no boys will ever want you if you dress like that. They'll only think you're good for one thing if you wear stuff like that," my mother scoffed as she berated me for my outfit. I had on a tank top, but apparently, it was too risqué. She continued as I stood at the base of the stairs, my arms crossed over my chest. "You can't be smarter than they are either. I saw how you were the other night with your science partner, and you have to stop that. You mustn't make them feel stupid…" her voice faded out as I picked at a scab on my arm.
"You're worthless and nothing, Loren. I thought you were a good fuck when we were seventeen, but you never grew beyond the same boring position. Always so scared to do anything other than what is expected of you. You're so fucking boring!" Brian shouted as he threw clothes into a bag. Quietly, I rocked myself as tears ran down my face. "And now, you can't even give me the life you promised when we got married. You're useless, and I'm done. I've been fucking women all over Chicago while you've been laying in bed eating bonbons, or whatever it is the fuck you do. I don't care."
My breaths began to pick up at a quicker pace as I fumbled with my belongings. In and out, in and out. Shoving my way out the door, I slid down the wall once I was clear of the locker room and all the perceived judgment I felt in there. Dropping my head between my legs, I slowly gathered my breath in slow, deep inhales and exhales.
The room stopped spinning just as the noise returned. Fearing that everyone was looking at me, I slowly raised my head. I was alone in the hallway, but I hadn't gone unnoticed. One pair of dark eyes watched me through the glass that separated the hallway and the training floor. It almost felt like I was staring into a mirror.
Blinking, I refocused, but when I looked again, the eyes were gone. Scanning the vicinity, I couldn't find the person they had belonged to, but I was confident it was the brash and hunky trainer from earlier. A rush of people exited the locker room a moment later and sound filled the hallway.
I gathered the stuff I'd dropped and got up as if everything was normal. The crowd offered me the opportunity to fall into the group, so no one had noticed me sitting on the ground. Buttoning my coat as I went, I stopped to pull out my gloves and hat. Something caught my eye on the edge of the bulletin board—an advertisement for a new class.
Now offering Kickboxing Lessons. Private sessions only. Must buy an additional package on top of the gym membership. See front desk for details. Must have potential to be accepted.
Kickboxing. Hmm. Now, that sounded interesting. Maybe it would give me the exhaustion I'd been looking for. Turning back around, I headed back toward the desk area. One of the peppy blonde girls was working the counter. I honestly tried not to be a bitter judgmental bitch, but these girls gave other women bad names. Completely plastic, tanned, and fake all over described it best. They only worked here to find their next meal ticket by hoping to steal away a rich sugar daddy. Good luck, ladies.
Bambi, or some other obnoxious sounding name, dismissed me with a look as I walked up to the counter and went back to chatting with the older man. See? Totally called it. He looked old enough to be her grandfather. A shiver of repulsion rolled through me. Ick. Tired of being ignored enough today, I started ringing the bell in front of me—obnoxiously.