My Twilight Zone

I had the thought back in the summer when I first joined as I chatted with a very friendly woman who was a "summer member" who had a home at the beach: well . . . how unusual. I like meeting new people and can be sociable enough on occasion, but I'm not exactly what I'd call friendly. But as I got drawn into a conversation with this very toned, older (not sure exactly how much older), very tanned and I mean, very evenly, deeply baked, unnaturally tanned, woman, I really felt like I was having an encounter with an exotic bird. She was so unlike other people I had met in my "normal" life. I was mostly amused and didn't realize at the time that joining a gym would open up a strange, surreal, new world to me -- often making simultaneously uncomfortable, hilarious, flattering, yet mortifying moments for me.

There are different ways I could approach how all this comes about, but I think it's best approached from the dance-based exercise classes angle. I take one straight dance class at the gym, there's a choreography-heavy dance/fitness hybrid class I love, and several times a week, there's a class that's mostly like an aerobics class based on some simple dance based moves and steps. We'll just call this last one fitness trend "W". Now, I like "W" classes because I find it a lot more fun than traditional fitness classes. But there are "W" fanatics who go to every available class, wear "W" gear (tank tops with logos prominently displayed, cargo pants with bizarre strips of long fabric weighted with clips at the end that flare around when you shake your hips and spin), fight for their spot like demons in front of the mirrors in the first row, and go on "W" events and vacations with the "W" founder. Sometimes some of these women come to class late and go straight to the front and make other people make space for them. While I legitimately enjoy "W" classes and attend as many classes as some of the devoted of the devotees, it really just serves as a workout for me and I, probably understandably, don't want to be viewed in the same vein as the "W" fanatics.

But it's hard not to recognize people as the months go by. The same people who like one-type of dance based class go to the other dance-based classes. And over time you chat briefly with your neighbors. And I should note that it's the older ladies who are most friendly towards me and other women my age and younger are generally not as friendly. But whatever. It really was neither here nor there for me.

But something strange started happening. The Other J said that I probably couldn't describe it without coming off sounding "braggy" and I just feel somehow deeply, deeply humiliated to be writing this stuff down . . . but it began as a slow trickle, but it's been happening with some consistency, and it's been getting more lavish lately (adding to my discomfort, mortification, and humiliation). People come up to me and compliment me:

"I just love the way you dance."

"My name is A. I thought I saw you in the Shop Rite parking lot with your husband the other day. I wanted to come up and tell him just how good you are. But of course, he already knows that."

"I love to watch you when we do that song."

"You're really good."

"I've been meaning to tell you for months -- I love the way you dance."

"I would pay to watch you dance."

To this last kind, but misguided compliment-giver, I wanted to say, You should ask for a refund from that show. But I say "thank you" and quickly move on to another topic. I find the compliments and quasi-girl crush like behavior mystifying and embarrassing. And the women who are complimenting me are middle aged to+ women who probably haven't taken a lot of gymnastics classes and did cheerleading (I know, it doesn't fit, but nonetheless, it was a part of my past) in their youth. And I think, really, what an odd, useless thing to be noticed and be complimented about.

And again, I am very mortified about the whole phenomenon. There is a false sense of intimacy that builds from being in a group, seeing the same people over and over, and having the shared experience of doing something together. But really, these women don't know me. Yet that does not stop them from acting upon this false sense of intimacy. I was shocked into immobility fairly recently when a woman, who I like, dubbed me her "dance buddy" and to my horror, hugged me. If you know me, you know I am not a cuddly, huggy sort of person. Ironically, and adding to my sense of penance in this life time, I LOOK like I may be a cuddly, huggy sort of person. But if you know anything about me, you KNOW that I do not hug willy-nilly. As a friend remarked to me, it could have been the basis of a Seinfeld episode: "It was happening to me slo-mo. And I couldn't believe it. It was happening, but I still couldn't believe that she was actually coming in for a hug!" And I can sort of see it. I'm dancing around, all little, with a huge grin plastered to my face. Now, I grin, partially because I am having a good time. But mostly, I grin to disguise the mirror-faced mugging that I automatically pull in front of a mirror. In my mind, the fewer people in the world who make "the face" at each other in front me in silent mockery (ahem, Best Friend and husband), the better.

So I thought maybe the hugging incident was the height of my indignities at My Twilight Zone. But no. Last night, during a "W" class was the worst. One of the "W" instructors had been singling me out lately when a particular song comes on. Let's call her instructor A. And it was A's class. She's very popular and I came in after most people had grabbed a spot. So I was a few rows back. There was another "W" instructor in the class too, let's call her B. And when "my" song came on, instructor A called up instructor B up to lead the class. So I thought I was off the hook. I was terribly, terribly wrong. "Get up here!" She turned to me and bellowed. I shook my head. "I love you with this song! Show them how it's done!" Fight and draw more attention to myself. Or get up there for the song, get it over with, and slink off back to my spot. So I went to the front and did the song. And I have to say, the performer in me doesn't mind the bit of spotlight for the duration of the song. But afterwards. Ugh. There is the obligatory feigned enthusiasm all around, high-fiving instructor B (actually high ten - which somehow makes it seem even worse), getting pats from the front-row "W" girls. I'm not one to high five much either. I thought it was all over when I returned to my spot. Then my "dance buddy" turned around and said, "the girl who was standing next to me left, get up here!" I shake my head no. "Get up here, I'm used to having you next to me!" Fight and draw more attention to myself or just go up. I just went up. Instructor A turns to me and says, "yeah! Stay up here!" Did I say yet that I hate the people who come late and go to the front of the class? I was forced up there, but I think it's essentially the same difference. And some of the "W" devotees were eyeing me with daggers. Ah the gym. The pleasure. The pain (physical soreness). And the mortification. So much mortification.

But I'll be there tomorrow. The one tomorrow is, after all, my favorite dance-based class. But please, please, please, let there be no humiliating, or even awkward, moments.