Twigbitch

Heh, they'll never know.

Today I went to my first truly African spinning class.

The instructor was a truly alarmingly large woman, who I shall name Lafwanda.  I’m afraid to say that when I first spied Lafwanda, my immediate thought was that woman cannot be the instructor; her one leg is the size of both of my thighs combined.  I was very skeptical about her fitness levels and the exertion levels of this class.

I pondered this while setting up my bike and looked up to see Lafwanda eyeballing me:

Lafwanda:  Hmmm, I think your seat is too low. It should be at hep height.

Me: [Skeptical of her judgment, jumps on the seat and then quickly off again] Yes. [Grudgingly] I think you’re right I’ll adjust it.

Lafwanda: You best, because if it is too low it will hurt your PUSS-AY. [Gestures towards her lady garden] And you do not want to damage your PUSS-AY.

Me: [Totally gob smacked, did she really just mention my vagina?] Gosh, well, um, yes, thank you for the warning.

I should have known that a woman who can mention your pussy within 2 minutes of meeting you is a force to be reckoned with.  For 45 minutes Lafwanda, with her gold nails and massive thighs maintained an unrelenting pace.  I’d look up sweating, red faced, lungs burning to see her incredible thighs rhythmically turning and quivering like two Jack Russell’s fighting over a bone in a bag.  She made us climb an imaginary hill with no end.  She didn’t stop for water, hell no; the woman must be part camel.  She urged us on with cries of ‘Woza’ (come), ‘Gijima’ (run) and ‘Hhayi-bo’ (no/definitely not) if she didn’t feel we were up to muster.

I confess I had to sit down, reduce my resistance and take a little water break.  Lafwanda caught my eye and raised her eyebrows, the look she shot me said, ‘C’mon Twigbitch, I know what you were thinking, I can do this all day’.  At this point the girl next to me fell back into her seat with a loud cry of “WOOH, EH-EH!” Which as you know is my favourite African expression, but there was no time to laugh because Lafwanda wanted to know if we could ‘feel the bern’.  Oh, we could feel it, somebody from the back of the class ululated a confirmation, but still Lafwanda in her spandexed, bronzed fury was unrelenting.

By the end I was shattered and remembered that ever-important saying; never judge a book by its cover, or a spinning instructress by the circumference of her thighs. 

Lafwanda, in the immortal words of Aretha, R.E.S.P.E.C.T, you made me your spinning twigbitch. Oh-eh-eh.