Today was my first morning back at the YMCA teaching group exercise since last weekend’s epic ankle sprain.
It was a strength training interval-style class, and I did my best to struggle through it. While I couldn’t do all of the moves along with the participants, I tried my best to motivate the able-bodied group, and give helpful tips on form and technique as I limped around in my ankle brace.
Overall it went pretty well, aside from a not-so-tasteful joke I accidentally made about your’s truly, competing in the Special Olympics due to my injury.
First things first, I love the Special Olympics, and would never intentionally say anything to jab fun at one of the world’s most prestigious and honorable athletic programs. My unfortunate comment was one of those things that just sounded better in my head…I regretted it the moment it left my mouth. I returned home, and recounted the incident to Scott, hoping to get his perspective on the situation.
“Do you think I offended people?” I asked nervously.
“Nah,” he replied, “You’re totally over thinking it. Did anybody laugh?”
“No…but then again, no one ever really laughs at any of the jokes I tell in my classes.”
I think that’s the YMCA’s way of telling me I’m not as funny as I think I am. Looks like I’ll be putting the kibosh on all jokes…not just mildly offensive Special Olympics ones.
I did notice something a little unusual during this morning’s session. While I still can’t walk like a normal person, I’m able to perform countless burpees and plyometric jump squats without incident. You’d think such high impact activity would bother my ankle, but quite the contrary. This has led me to believe that maybe, whenever I need to get from point A to point B, I should travel there via jump squat…I mean, my thighs could definitely use the extra toning.
Unfortunately, while limping around Smalltown is still socially acceptable, jump squatting through the candle aisle at Wal-Mart is a whole new enchilada. A crazy enchilada. Even if it does have slim, muscular thighs.
limping swaggering it is.
Scott has taken to calling my swagger “the pimp walk”, which might actually be my favorite name of all. In fact, I love the name “pimp walk” so much, it inspired me to spend two hours last night crafting a “Katrina does the pimp walk” video montage.
Basically, I webcammed myself limping in various hooded outfits while flashing white girl gang signs. There was even a pimp cup involved.
I then edited the video to play in slow-motion, high contrast black and white while Jay-Z and Kanye played in the background.
My pimp walking masterpiece concluded with the screen fading to black as the words “Limpin’ aint easy” flashed across the screen.
It was the pimpiest pimp video that ever pimped.
When I showed my masterpiece to Scott, he had only one thing to say.
“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I would definitely never show that to anyone ever again if I was you.”
I often times have Scott preview the content of this blog before hitting the publish button. I talk a lot of smack about him, and would never want to share anything that would hurt his feelings or make him embarrassed. The fact that he’s had no problem with anything you see on this blog says a lot about his tolerance for my ridiculousness.
So, when he experiences a severely adverse reaction to my pimp walk video, I take his word for it.
Basically, I won’t be sharing the video.
Luckily, he didn’t say anything about not posting a screenshot.
Scott just pointed out that people don’t even use the word “homies” any more.
He just likes to ruin all the fun, doesn’t he?
Rest assured, I’m saving a copy of the video on my hard drive. And one day, just maybe, I’ll possess the delusion and confidence required to delicately release it out into the world.
Until then, I like to imagine that I’ll become wildly famous, and the lost footage will be discovered after my death. Much like the lost songs of Tupac. Except instead of a legitimate musical expression, it will be a fat-bottomed white girl limping around in slow motion with a makeshift pimp cup that is actually a crystal water goblet from Macy’s. Regardless, the millions of dollars generated by the lost pimp cup footage will be donated to the Special Olympics as an apology for the stupid joke I made in class this morning.
The moral of this story? To tell you the truth, I have no idea what it might be, aside from the fact that my mental health may be the only thing more screwed up than my ankle. Clearly, my sense of humor is a close second.