Clareified

Where does the good go

Bad bitch

I learned the phrase from my mother. It was her ever colorful way of saying “Don’t make me tell you twice.”
For example: “Dawn, go put your dirty clothes in the washer.”
Twenty minutes later, Dawn, who is trying to get to the next level in Zelda, would hear “Oh, so you think you’re a bad bitch?”
And game is on pause and clothes go into the washer.
Now, of course, there were some days when I did in fact think I was a bad bitch. And when she’d ask me, I’d shrug my shoulders and not move my clothes anywhere near the washer. Then she would knock me the fuck out and I’d remember that “no, no I am not a bad bitch” and the clothes would be taken to the washer.
Well, I have to confess that when I go to the gym and I’m rocking out to my ipod I totally feel like a bad bitch. This is not a good thing.
Like when I’m using a machine and someone wants to “work in.” Huh? Let me get this straight. I am using this thing, I am clearly not done, but you want me to stop, get off and wait while *you* use it? Not bloody likely. And don’t get me started on the people who wear cologne to the gym. Yah, cause sweat and Old Spice is hawt!
Anyway, last night, I’m all walking to the machine and I see a towel draped across the seat. I look around and see no one. I walk to the machine, put my hand on the bar and make every “hey! I’m about to use this, if you have a problem with that let me know now,” move that I can. Nothing.
Okay.
I take the towel off the seat and drape it across the base of the machine.
Not a minute into the workout, this man — about 6’5, probably 220 pounds, ripped from his thick neck to his burly calves storms over to me and starts ranting.
I have my headphones in my ears, so I can’t hear what he’s saying.
I sit up and take a bud out of my ear and catch midrant.
“– put my towel on the floor?”
“I didn’t put it on the floor,” I said.
“Why the fuck you going to put my towel on the floor. Didn’t you see it on the seat.”
“Yeah, I saw it on the seat and I put it on the foot of the machine.” This is called *adjacent* to the floor.
“You put it on the floor.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have left it on the machine.”
“You stupid fucking bitch.”
Ohhhhh HELL NO. He did NOT just call me…stupid!
And now, ladies and gentlemen, is where, your humble 5’3 -5’4 when she’s lying- fat, no muscles at all having, way way way out of shape hero thinks to herself ” I just did 15 minutes on the Stairmaster who does this asshole think he is?”
This is where your humble hero decides that yes, yes she is a bad bitch and she is going step to this man and show him what’s what.
As I stood up and my head reached, oh, let’s say, his navel, I also realized that I was going to get very very very hurt. I already felt my body tensing, my eyes squeezing themselves shut and my neck twisting my body away from the impending blows. I was going to be adjacent to the floor. Possibly dead.
In fact, all I really could hope for here is not to get dead.
And that he had deep pockets.
But whatever. I’ve been knocked the fuck out before.
I stood up to him and said “excuse me.”
Mercifully, his friend pulled him away.
Also mercifully, my mouth did not utter the words “Yeah, you better walk away,” despite the fact that my head was thinking it very loudly.
I went back to my workout.
Actually, I probably could have taken him.
What?
My teeth might have scratched his fist or something…

11 Responses to “Bad bitch”

  1. DRobbSki Says:

    You coulda taken him.

  2. Karol Says:

    HA! You admit you’re 5’3″! I’m 5’4″ AND A HALF by doctor’s measurements and therefore taller than you. RESOLVED.

  3. Emerald Says:

    Perhaps the force with which he would have punched you would have been enough for your head to bobble back, then forward, in turn hitting him in the nuts.

  4. Dawn Summers Says:

    Is that as measured by the same doctor that can provide a note for a “sick” employee who somehow returns to work with a deep tan? Yah. So long as I can tussle your little head without even straining my arms, I am taller than you. 5’4.5 my arse.

  5. Karol Says:

    Nope, not the same doctor! Ha!

  6. pearatty Says:

    Thank you on behalf of all gym goers for standing up to that guy. You cannot friggin’ “save” equipment in the gym by putting your shit on it, folks! (Personal trainers are the worst for this, they’ll pull together everything their client needs for a 45 minute workout, and then try to bully you if you use it anyway.)

    If someone’s sitting on a machine I want to use, chatting or just lazing about and not working out for more than two of my own sets of working out, I will ask them if I can work in some sets. Not so much to make them let me in, but to hurry their self-absorbed asses up.

    Yeah, that’s right, I feel like a bad bitch at the gym too. “I just did 15 minutes on the Stairmaster who does this asshole think he is?” Exactly.

  7. Dawn Summers Says:

    Fine, Karol, I am sure I can get a note from aforementioned doctor saying that I am 5’5. So suck it.
    Pearatty,
    You’re right. I’m like a superhero. I am Gym Woman defender of rights of gym goers. I’m getting a cape! Shh…don’t tell anyone though.

  8. Michael Bates Says:

    Edna says, “No capes!”

  9. Eric Says:

    Hey, is “bad bitch” short for crazy-ass suicidal woman?

  10. Dawn Summers Says:

    Ummm…pretty much. Grin.

  11. Jess Says:

    Love it! Machine saving is a no, no. Oh, and how about placing the treadmill on pause so they can run down two flights of stairs to go to the bathroom. Meanwhile there’s a long line of folks waiting their turn. Definitely not cool!

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