I don't like a workout class being led by a woman who talks like a cross between Joey from "Friends" and Fran Drescher from "The Nanny." Yo Vinnie!
I don't like a workout instructor who secretly wants to be a clown. This isn't a daycare. We're all adults here. Even me.
I don't like a workout instructor who spends half the class talking to us with her eyes closed. What's wrong with you that you can't look at us? Or maybe I should ask, what's wrong with us that you won't look at us?
I don't like a workout instructor who spends more reps showing us how NOT to do the exercise than doing it the right way. We're going to do what you do, OK? Also, if you accidentally hurt yourself swinging the weight like that, I'm going to laugh. But then I'll be mad because you won't be able to finish the class.
I don't like a workout class where we do 100,000 reps of the same exercise on the same arm or leg. If everyone has collapsed and it's just you, maybe we should switch to something else?
I don't like the way I look in that damn mirror.
I don't like the plastic floor that, as soon as I drip sweat on it, becomes as slippery as a hockey rink.
I don't like the way the attractive blonde woman next to me keeps glancing over at me to make sure I'm not looking at her. If you'll stop turning your head to look my way I'll stop turning my head to see what the hell you're looking at, OK? You're not that hot and even if you were, I'm busy over here. Can't you see I'm dying?
I don't like how little progress I've made and how tired I am all the time.
I don't like when the cafeteria runs out of regular milk and I have to mix my chocolate protein shake in a chocolate milk. It's not nearly as good as it sounds.
I don't like walking back into the office with my hair every which way and my clothes slightly wet, as if I'm sweating waterfalls, because it's humid out and my towel isn't able to suck every last drop of water off me. Yes, I know I look like ass, but it's just water. And anyway, don't I always look like ass? Isn't that the whole point to my busting my ass in the gym during my lunch hour in the first place?
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