To the Other (and my former favored) Matt

Dearest Matt B.,

I’m sorry to have to do this, but I must. That extraordinary something that I had with you is now over. Every girl eventually has a fantasy man, a mental boy toy, and you were mine … just in a different sort of way.

I knew you to be kind and gentle - a teacher to children by day, and an instructor to adults by night. Your sweet face and charming smile accented your gentle nature, and your nimble and toned body provided evidence of your physical competence and abilities.

Out of the other instructors, I deemed you to be the one who is pure and without evil. You provided options for the grueling tricep exercises, which offers a touch of grace and amnesty for your weaker students. You made sure that all programmed breaks were properly administered, and you allotted the most amount of time for stretching in between sets.

I would think of you during other Power sessions, and longed for your presence. When Debby skips the breaks in the bicep track, I yearn for your generosity in permitting them. When the only option is to punk out during the last set of tricep dips because you have lost all capabilities in maintaining proper alignment, I covet your grace and amnesty. You became a source of comfort and affirmation during the more foreboding hours known as Power.

The cusp of my alternative lust for you is evidenced in my training schedule. I have planned for a speed session every Thursday before your special hour, and I have done so over the past several weeks. You have been instrumental in my high count of calories burned on the day before my weekly rest.

This past Thursday, you changed EVERYTHING. In a single track, you shattered every single notion I had of you, and you revealed yourself as the demon that you are. You revel in seeing pain. You saunter the studio enjoying your twisted sadistic pleasures, just like the rest of them. You have betrayed me with your tweaked shoulder track, and don’t think I didn’t notice your smiling dimples when you indicated that you will be bringing other modifications within your next sessions.

You cruel, cruel man. You HAD me and I wanted you, but it’s over. It’s entirely OVER.

How in the hell am I suppose to fit in my speed sessions now you Wretch!

Yours No Longer,
The Muscularly Dyslexic Girl Who Had Inadvertently Developed Her Shoulders While Doing Bicep Exercises

PS - Despite your shared evil among fitness instructors, you are still a cutey ... objectively speaking.