Dude, that is so not zen.
I can think of two things about me that are probably the reason why I'm generally irritated at the world. They are:
1. The inability to confront people when they piss me off and
2. The inability to get over things that piss me off.
This occurred to me after I realized that yesterday an asshole at my gym pissed me off royally, and today I am still obsessing about it.
Here's the scoop:
I work out at a private gym for personal trainers to work with clients. "Private" doesn't mean one-on-one, it just means you're not weaving in and out of meatheads trying to get to the free weights. There are typically about three other pairs (trainer/client) in the gym whenever I am there. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I am not in the main part of the gym; I work out in a smaller room (think kitchen size) on the Pilates reformer.
A few weeks ago a yoga instructor started doing one-on-one sessions at the gym, and since the Pilates room is relatively quiet and Zen-like, with plants and a stereo and mood music (furnished by MOI, thank you very much) she does the sessions there. Cool. Cool cool. Until yesterday.
I hop on the reformer and start chatting with my trainer about her recent trip to Mexico, relatively oblivious to the middle-aged man doing the cobra pose next to me with HIS trainer. As my trainer Cathy starts in on a story about a mariachi band, Yoga Man pipes in.
"Would you guys mind not chit-chatting? I don't mind you being in here, but I'm trying to concentrate."
Um. What. the. FUCK. did you just say to me. I seriously thought he was joking at first. Who says that at a GYM? In a yoga studio the size of my walk-in closet? AT a yoga session where you're supposed to be all cool and peaceful?
Of course I said nothing, and I have regretted it every waking second since yesterday morning (hence the obsessing part). Of course my trainer couldn't say anything, and while she should have been like, "Gandhi would not be down with that," HIS trainer didn't say anything. I should have stopped, looked him straight in the eye and said, "You know, this Pilates reformer is a little too big for me to just pick up and take somewhere else. And, although I've been coming here for months and I just saw you for the first time last week, I really appreciate you not minding me being in here. Now why don't you just shut up and mind your manners, Yoga Boy."
But I didn't.
When their session was over, his instructor leaned over to mine and whispered, "I'm soooo sorry." And my trainer was perfectly gracious, saying only, "You know, that's fine, we'll be quiet ... but he didn't have to be so rude."
'Zactly.
The only good thing about this whole situation is that this morning I ran my fastest two miles ever. All on account of picturing myself, the whole time, punching him in the face.
1. The inability to confront people when they piss me off and
2. The inability to get over things that piss me off.
This occurred to me after I realized that yesterday an asshole at my gym pissed me off royally, and today I am still obsessing about it.
Here's the scoop:
I work out at a private gym for personal trainers to work with clients. "Private" doesn't mean one-on-one, it just means you're not weaving in and out of meatheads trying to get to the free weights. There are typically about three other pairs (trainer/client) in the gym whenever I am there. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I am not in the main part of the gym; I work out in a smaller room (think kitchen size) on the Pilates reformer.
A few weeks ago a yoga instructor started doing one-on-one sessions at the gym, and since the Pilates room is relatively quiet and Zen-like, with plants and a stereo and mood music (furnished by MOI, thank you very much) she does the sessions there. Cool. Cool cool. Until yesterday.
I hop on the reformer and start chatting with my trainer about her recent trip to Mexico, relatively oblivious to the middle-aged man doing the cobra pose next to me with HIS trainer. As my trainer Cathy starts in on a story about a mariachi band, Yoga Man pipes in.
"Would you guys mind not chit-chatting? I don't mind you being in here, but I'm trying to concentrate."
Um. What. the. FUCK. did you just say to me. I seriously thought he was joking at first. Who says that at a GYM? In a yoga studio the size of my walk-in closet? AT a yoga session where you're supposed to be all cool and peaceful?
Of course I said nothing, and I have regretted it every waking second since yesterday morning (hence the obsessing part). Of course my trainer couldn't say anything, and while she should have been like, "Gandhi would not be down with that," HIS trainer didn't say anything. I should have stopped, looked him straight in the eye and said, "You know, this Pilates reformer is a little too big for me to just pick up and take somewhere else. And, although I've been coming here for months and I just saw you for the first time last week, I really appreciate you not minding me being in here. Now why don't you just shut up and mind your manners, Yoga Boy."
But I didn't.
When their session was over, his instructor leaned over to mine and whispered, "I'm soooo sorry." And my trainer was perfectly gracious, saying only, "You know, that's fine, we'll be quiet ... but he didn't have to be so rude."
'Zactly.
The only good thing about this whole situation is that this morning I ran my fastest two miles ever. All on account of picturing myself, the whole time, punching him in the face.