“I am prouder of myself then I have ever been before, and have proven that I am as strong as I always knew I could be.” - Ninja Stacee
I was (and will always will be) a card carrying Girly-Girl. Genetic? I have no idea. I always hated jeans and sneakers, being most comfortable in a floor length ballgown and glittery heels. (If I could get them at age 5.) My mother wore jeans, and was quite hot in them. But I was all Mary Janes and dresses, all the time. Not negotiable.
When I was in grade school in the 70’s, you wore the uniform (bell bottom jeans, tee or rugby shirt, puffy vest, sneakers) or risked being shunned.
I was totally willing to not have friends to preserve my style. It sucked, but… not negotiable.
PLUS as a child I was sickly; constant strep, bronchitis, asthma… long hospital stays, oxygen tent, the class art project was often to make get well cards for me.
So in gym, when it came time to be up at bat, or kick the ball, or be picked for the team, I was teased. So I elected to abstain. Totally. And once we had to change into sneakers and “gym clothes’ in middle school??? Fuck it. I’m out. I got a list of asthma excuses why I can’t do gym!
Until fucking now.
I’m 44… soon 45. My body was aching. Couldn’t get off the sofa without limping. No energy. Hitting peri-menopause and getting too wide for my evening gown… plus I’m an artist turned entrepreneur and I needed to gets me some new stone cold BALLZ.
MFF saved my fucking ass!!
As I’m sure you can imagine, I hate the gym like it killed my cats and ate them in front of me. I’ve tried. I just can’t be bothered to go back more than a few times. “The gym” makes you feel like shit. It’s isolating, and lonely, and boring. And it hurts and you sweat and there’s no motivation (for me) to go there.
Plus if I showed up in a ball gown they’d be like WTF?
It’s like you went into my brain and created a gym I could go to, and save myself from being in a scooter by age 50.
This is totally different. From the moment I walked in everyone acted like we were drinking buddies from way back. The warm fuzzy empathy and inclusiveness is off the charts! The whole experience is designed to enfold you in warm hugs, and rock you, and say, “It’s ok…we get you!”
And then you get your ass kicked. And it’s amazing.
Each coach has their own approach, and each is amazing and funny and so real. No bullshit. Laughing your ass off, and getting high fived, and the name games and the costumes and the insane cursing and the fact that the coaches all know your name, and cheer you on BY NAME… well… fuck me that is awesome. Plus the 360 degree wellness diet check-ins… and the insane long emails full of info and data and love… it’s pretty amazing.
Even though you’re sweating balls, and in pain, and just want to drink a bourbon and pizza mint chip smoothie and lie down and make it stop, you keep going (and eating protein). Because Matt Wilson is in a fucking gorilla suit, and Geoff is so freakin’ chill, and BPM is gonna punch our collective clowns, and Beast is joy-humping everyone, and Fury broke the bell with a dildo, and if they are gonna show up and get their freak on, I’m gonna swing that bell till my vee-jay-jay falls out.
And I was in pain. And as I limped home every time, I couldn’t wait to get back and do it again. For the people. For the coaches, and the front desk folks, for my fellow Snatcheders…for me!
And I’m pretty sure if I showed up in a ball gown, you’d be like, as long as you can do split squats and swings…damn girrrl you look good 🙂
I worked harder, and pushed myself further than I ever thought I could, or would bother to, because of the vibe you guys create. This is huge for me.
I never missed a class. I got sick, and I hurt my wrist, and I was worn out from my insane job teaching kids in no AC, and I missed drinking with the cast (and my fiancé) every Friday. And I didn’t care. I wanted to go to get fucking Snatched. For me. For my pal Rebecca who I bonded with who always stood behind me. I couldn’t let her down because I was tired, right?
I never could see myself in the gym. That’s for jocks. Not for Shakespeare reading, skirt wearing, me. You changed my whole brain. Once I would pull the asthma card to not have to work out. Now, I bought a sports bra and I was pissed I couldn’t do push ups because my wrist was hurt!
I have arm muscles. (WTF??) They are small, but they are mighty. They represent the new chapter in my life that you helped begin. I am prouder of myself then I have ever been before, and have proven that I am as strong as I always knew I could be, but never had a safe place to stand up and say, “Yes. I can try this. I can do this. I am doing this.”
AND I can get off the sofa without limping like a 85 year old.
I hope you like me. Because I’m gonna be around for a looooong while!