Annie Bicycle

My friend Diane invited me and our other friend Tara to take a spin class with her yesterday. Diane is a spin class regular, and I am a regular at avoiding all fitness classes. But it was one of those rare days where the stars aligned and the three of us could all make it, you know, if I didn’t want to sleep in. But then Tara agreed to go, so I hadΒ to go, because they put peer pressure on me and also there’s a Trader Joe’s next door to the spin class. Mmmm, Jo Jo’s.

I was the last person to arrive to the class (of course) and I saw that Diane and Tara saved me a bike in the back row, on the farthest end. They know me so well. Diane helped me adjust the bike, which was good because I had no idea how to do it, and the seat was raised up to my eyeballs.

I climbed onto the bike and sat down, and I realized immediately that the class was going to be painful. Not because of the exercise, but because the seat was the most uncomfortable thing I have ever sat on in my life. There’s a lot of joke potential right there but I’m just gonna let that one go because my dad reads this blog. The seat was padded, but it just hit me in all the wrong places. It felt bad instantly, and even after some adjustments it still hurt. I figured I was being a wuss, so I just said a quick, “whoa, my vagina doesn’t like this!” to Tara and Diane and then class started.

The lights went off and music started blasting, and there was a woman at the front of the room shouting instructions to us. It was kind of like a weird foreign film. The instructor would yell out things like, “third position!” and I was like, “I’m supposed to do ballet on this bike?” but then Diane showed me it was a different way to ride the bike. There were little knob things to turn to add resistance, and the instructor would should out, “Give the knob two twists! Twist your knobs!” It’s a good thing I was in the back, because sometimes I am a twelve-year-old boy.

My crotch was on fire the entire time. I would be sprinting on the bike and…things…would start to go numb. Then we’d be told to stand up and peddle, and all the blood would rush back to those things, and it felt like I was peeing my pants. Every. Single. Time. I would look down to make sure I hadn’t, like I didn’t figure out the first time that it was just my blood pumping. I’m pretty sure I am the only person who liked the segments where we stood up to peddle.

After the class, Diane looked at Tara and me and said, “you’re going to be sore tomorrow!” and I was like, “yeah, there’s already some tenderness happening down in my special area.”

I’m pretty sure I nowΒ know how vaginal birth feels.