spinning

There is literally nothing worse than a stinky person on the bike next to you in spin class.

I love to work up a good sweat when I’m at the gym and I appreciate that ever body is unique, but the odors that well up from beneath chubby folds of skin are almost unbearable. When you’re crammed into a dark room the size of a doghouse and churning your legs to the steady beat of Rihanna, you’re not exactly expecting to smell freshly baked cookies or mint-scented spa water, but you hope, you fervently hope, that you’re not going to end up in a cloud of someone else’s B.O. or bad breath.

But, sadly, that’s exactly what happened to me at the gym today. The woman next to me looked unassuming. I actually set my bike up next to hers because she seemed normal and non-gross, but as soon as the music started pumping and the class got underway, I started to smell the most noxious of smells.

It was like moldy mothballs mated with decomposing sidewalk squirrel and created this steamy, unavoidable stench. No matter which way I turned my head, I could still smell her. It appeared to be coming from her mouth so I can only assume she had a debilitating case of halitosis or else, she was seriously ill. Either way, it completely put a damper on my workout.

When I first caught wind of the scent, I looked around the room frantically, trying to determine if there was an extra bike I could hop on for the remainder of the session, but of course, the room was packed. There was no place to go. I debated getting off my bike and just walking out, but the instructor was new and really, really good and I didn’t want to potentially offend the teacher and pass up an otherwise awesome workout.

I poured some water over my towel and held it up to my face to filter some of the air. At this point even the burned, bleachy smell of the cloth was like paradise to my assaulted nostrils. I kept shooting sideways glances at the stanky girl to see if she noticed how bad she smelled – but she seemed blissfully oblivious. That’s always how it is, right? You can’t smell your own stink. Ugh.

I kept pedaling away, doing my best to breathe in over my left shoulder and out over my right. I figured if I blew air out of my lungs with enough force, I could possibly waft her stinky air in the other direction. And it worked, kind of.

Towards the end of class, we were on a tough incline and the mirrors were actually fogging up around the edges from the heat of it all. At this point, there was such a foul and all-encompassing cloud of breath emanating from this girl that I literally felt like I was giving mouth-to-mouth to a corpse.

There is no happy ending to this story. No moral. It was horrible and I hope to never repeat it. THE END.

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