On Wednesday morning I went to have a physical assessment in preparation for a 30-week fitness course I am about to take. These are the text messages that I sent to Rachelle while this was taking place:
Me: Kind of scared.
Me: Kind of very scared.
Me: What if there’s a rope?
Me: I can just imagine it hanging from the ceiling.
Me: Swaying ominously.
Me: They’ll force me to climb up it.
Me: There might be a rope!!
Me: I’m not overreacting.
Me: Look, I know it’s not grade 4 gym class.
Me: No, I’m not expecting dodge ball.
Me: It would be nice if you were supportive rather than sarcastic.
Me: I don’t have dodge ball nightmares.
Me: Not anymore.
Me: Fartmares.
Me: Very funny.
Me: No, I’m not going to ask them if they can do anything about my “gas problem.”
Me: Because there is no gas problem.
Me: My trainer?
Me: Her name is Laetitia.
Me: She’s French, France French.
Me: She thinks I’m really funny.
Me: No, funny ha-ha.
Me: Cute accent.
Me: She really loves the anchor tattoo on my hand. It reminds her of Marseille.
Me: I know it was a commitment tattoo I got with you, but I can’t help it if other women find it attractive.
Me: My hands don’t look old.
Me: I’d say they look like they belong on a 25 year-old man.
Me: She’s going to test my grip.
Me: No, not my grip on reality.
Me: Man alive!
Me: My right hand has like a GI Joe Super Kung Fu grip!!
Me: Laetitia is really impressed! Gave me a hug!!
Me: Oh, you know the French.
Me: They’re like that.
Me: Yes, whorish.
Me: Such beguiling giggles, too.
Me: Are you going to your girl’s night out Salsa Dance Slut thing again tonight?
Me: Your sisters are a very bad influence on you.
Me: Alejandro.
Me: No, I don’t want him coming to my birthday party.
Me: I just don’t.
Me: I don’t want to talk about it.
Me: I don’t care if the therapist said I have to communicate more.
Me: All right.
Me: I communicate that I hate Alejandro.
Me: Well, didn’t he poke somebody in the back with his boner while dancing????
Me: I can’t do this now, I have to prepare for my next test.
Me: Mentally. I have to get in the zone.
Me: I want Alejandro out of the zone!!
Me: The next test?
Me: I have to walk briskly for the next six minutes.
Me: Yes.
Me: Well, why wouldn’t I take off my shirt?
Me: The French are used to that sort of thing.
Me: And I’m going to get a good sweat on.
Me: Oh.
Me: Apparently the equipment works better if I keep my shirt on.
Me: No.
Me: I don’t see any equipment.
Me: I think Laetitia might be a drunk.
Me: She’s all worried about me texting when I do the brisk walk test thing.
Me: Thinks I might walk into a wall or something.
Me: As if.
Me: Hate Laetitia and her bad skin.
Me: Glad I’ve never been to France.