Kale
Twelve women stared at me with absolute contempt. I could feel the hatred emanating from their eyes. Their muscles twitched and their lips pulled back to bare their teeth. They most likely wanted me dead.
“Come on, ladies!” I yelled. “Is that all you can do? Drop those booties a little lower!”
It was my job to make them hate me, and I admit I took pleasure in it. The huffs of exertion the women put out spurred me onwards. I readjusted the barbell that was sitting just above my shoulder blades. It had more weight on it than any of the others were carrying, and this was my third class of the day. If these women wanted to lift like me, they were going to have to try harder.
I glanced at one woman who clearly wasn’t even trying to squat. “Lower, Cindy! That ass should be on the floor!” With her face contorted into a grimace, she dropped an inch lower. It wasn’t much, but it was better.
The women kept coming back for more of this punishment, so I supposed they at least found it useful. I had more repeat sign-ups than any of the other instructors at this studio.
Of this class, there was only one woman I hadn’t seen before. She never took her eyes off me as she worked out – or tried to. Her skin-tight tank top and capris showed a slim figure, but her form was terrible. It was as if she’d never picked up a weight before in her life.
“Can we do eight more squats, ladies?”
A weak chorus of “no”s came out. The women who weren’t exhausted yet were going to be by the time I was done with them.
“Are our butts going to look like yours if we do eight more squats?” one of my regulars asked.
“Yeah, girl! The more squats you do, the bigger your booty is going to get,” I said, sinking into the first one. “You’re going to get the booty that makes men turn around and say oh my God. Everybody’s going to be stopping and staring at your booty.”
The girls laughed. “Two!” I yelled out. “You want a big booty? A huge booty? A booty your man can’t keep his hands off? Three!”
I knew what the women thought when they first saw me. How were they going to get in shape with my classes? I wasn’t a specimen of physical perfection. I was strong, but I had curves – ones that jiggled. It wasn’t just my chest, which often got in the way of my arm work-outs. I also had a belly and an ass. That was just the way I was made.
From the time I was young, I’d loved fitness. I played every sport possible with my four older brothers. In my baggy clothes and baseball caps, I could have passed for one of the boys. That illusion vanished around the time I started to develop a figure. Now that I was twenty-one I made a few concessions to girliness. But I still lifted like one of the boys.
Once most women came to a few classes and saw how strong I was, they figured out that listening to me would be good for them. As I looked at the skinny new woman, I wondered if she would ever come to that realization. With the way she was looking at me, I just knew she was judging me.
“Four, five!” I yelled. “Harder, ladies!”
I lowered my torso, feeling the barbell’s weight pressing down and the burn in my hamstrings. The new woman let her weights clatter to the floor and wiped her hand across her forehead. All of my regulars were fine, although some of them turned to look at her.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop! Seven… and… eight!”
A few of the women started to stand again, but the ones who knew me well knew I wasn’t done quite yet. “Stay low, ladies, stay low.” Their thighs had to be in agony at this point, but they needed this. “Stay there, and just… pop… that… booty.”
The room filled with groans as the women pushed their butts out behind them. The squat segment was over. With a push of energy, I raised my barbell over my head and lowered it carefully to the floor. My biceps rippled under
Twelve women stared at me with absolute contempt. I could feel the hatred emanating from their eyes. Their muscles twitched and their lips pulled back to bare their teeth. They most likely wanted me dead.
“Come on, ladies!” I yelled. “Is that all you can do? Drop those booties a little lower!”
It was my job to make them hate me, and I admit I took pleasure in it. The huffs of exertion the women put out spurred me onwards. I readjusted the barbell that was sitting just above my shoulder blades. It had more weight on it than any of the others were carrying, and this was my third class of the day. If these women wanted to lift like me, they were going to have to try harder.
I glanced at one woman who clearly wasn’t even trying to squat. “Lower, Cindy! That ass should be on the floor!” With her face contorted into a grimace, she dropped an inch lower. It wasn’t much, but it was better.
The women kept coming back for more of this punishment, so I supposed they at least found it useful. I had more repeat sign-ups than any of the other instructors at this studio.
Of this class, there was only one woman I hadn’t seen before. She never took her eyes off me as she worked out – or tried to. Her skin-tight tank top and capris showed a slim figure, but her form was terrible. It was as if she’d never picked up a weight before in her life.
“Can we do eight more squats, ladies?”
A weak chorus of “no”s came out. The women who weren’t exhausted yet were going to be by the time I was done with them.
“Are our butts going to look like yours if we do eight more squats?” one of my regulars asked.
“Yeah, girl! The more squats you do, the bigger your booty is going to get,” I said, sinking into the first one. “You’re going to get the booty that makes men turn around and say oh my God. Everybody’s going to be stopping and staring at your booty.”
The girls laughed. “Two!” I yelled out. “You want a big booty? A huge booty? A booty your man can’t keep his hands off? Three!”
I knew what the women thought when they first saw me. How were they going to get in shape with my classes? I wasn’t a specimen of physical perfection. I was strong, but I had curves – ones that jiggled. It wasn’t just my chest, which often got in the way of my arm work-outs. I also had a belly and an ass. That was just the way I was made.
From the time I was young, I’d loved fitness. I played every sport possible with my four older brothers. In my baggy clothes and baseball caps, I could have passed for one of the boys. That illusion vanished around the time I started to develop a figure. Now that I was twenty-one I made a few concessions to girliness. But I still lifted like one of the boys.
Once most women came to a few classes and saw how strong I was, they figured out that listening to me would be good for them. As I looked at the skinny new woman, I wondered if she would ever come to that realization. With the way she was looking at me, I just knew she was judging me.
“Four, five!” I yelled. “Harder, ladies!”
I lowered my torso, feeling the barbell’s weight pressing down and the burn in my hamstrings. The new woman let her weights clatter to the floor and wiped her hand across her forehead. All of my regulars were fine, although some of them turned to look at her.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop! Seven… and… eight!”
A few of the women started to stand again, but the ones who knew me well knew I wasn’t done quite yet. “Stay low, ladies, stay low.” Their thighs had to be in agony at this point, but they needed this. “Stay there, and just… pop… that… booty.”
The room filled with groans as the women pushed their butts out behind them. The squat segment was over. With a push of energy, I raised my barbell over my head and lowered it carefully to the floor. My biceps rippled under
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