Pronunciation: /uh n luhvd/
“The biggest disease of this day and age is that of people feeling unloved” – Princess Diana
Four. That’s the amount of people who stopped coming to the Monday body pump class while the teacher was away on holiday. Why? Because I fell in for her while she was on vacation. Four people. At least.
How do I know? For starters, I kept bumping into one of them. There’s a gym and reception area downstairs and we saw each other coming and going in and out. So I know for a fact she wasn’t away on holiday herself, like the teacher, and she just didn’t show up because of me. Also, in the past she’d sometimes show up for the Saturday classes, but stopped doing so after I took over.
Second, there’s a bunch of highly annoying women in the Monday class. Always giggling and talking, even when the teacher is trying to explain something or start the lesson. Or when I take over one or two tracks as my role as “assistant” (the main idea was that I’d join in on teaching the Monday class together with the rightful teacher, so she could teach me the ropes and I could get used to being in front of the class, although now I am already teaching full classes myself).
As soon as S (the teacher) left for her holiday, one of them stopped coming. The other popped by once, never so much as listened to my tips (she needed extra attention as she couldn’t do all the regular moves), just did her own thing and ceased to come back for the remaining two weeks of S’ holiday.
The last one gave me one chance, also appearing on a Saturday, then decided it wasn’t worth her time (especially after her friends ditched her as well) and stayed at home, too. Eagerly waiting for S to return, I imagine.
Well, S is back and so are they. It makes me feel just like I used to in high school: unloved. Unworthy. Like I am nothing.
For a while I was bummed out (both during and after the class). But as I was driving home I knew it doesn’t really matter they didn’t show up because of me. It doesn’t matter what they think of me. For two reasons:
- I don’t even like them. Heck, one of the gigglers has a god awful pair of leggings she insists on wearing to the class (and of which I once said I liked them, but only because I was so shocked I couldn’t do anything but comment on them – might as well try to win a soul over by lying). I swear they are so ugly, I cannot even look in her direction from fear of going blind.
Okay, I am slightly exaggerating here, but trust me: those long leggings are downright horrendous with their Scottish print. Yuck.
The bottom line here is that they’re not my type of people, and neither am I to them. Which is okay. You can’t like everyone and you can’t be liked by everyone. It’s natural. If only I could learn to spend half the time I spend trying to get others to like me on getting to like myself, I wouldn’t feel so bummed out by silly things like this.
- I am a better person than they are. And I have proof! Months ago, before I was asked to teach body pump, S was ill and they searched for a last-minute replacement. They found it in a young man who worked at the gym as a trainer in training. He had no clue what he was doing, and I felt so annoyed I even considered leaving after the third set of exercises. But I didn’t. Because I realised how difficult it had to be for him, being thrown in front of seventeen strange women who all knew the routine better than he did. I imagined being him, and instead of being annoyed I felt proud (and slightly jealous) at his bravery. Plus, it was quite endearing to see him flick through the exercise tips booklet he had.
Anyway, this boy ended up teaching more and more body pump classes, and even if I didn’t enjoy them as much as I did the ones S teaches, I kept coming back.
I could have done the same thing to him as the women did to me, but I chose not to. Because he needed the experience and I liked the work outs. Nobody is flawless and we all have to learn, so give us something to learn from.
It has taken me a long time to get over the idea that I am worthless. And I am still fighting, every day, for a better self-image.
I don’t need this crap. So I’m guessing it’s a good thing they avoid my lessons. I wouldn’t be having this much fun if they were there all the time. I’d feel observed, scrutinised and mostly: unloved.
Instead, I have a small class with nice, friendly people who make me feel welcome, not so stressed out, and appreciated.
Plus, none of them wears ugly leggings. Just saying…