SUBJ: I’m hiding from a gang leader. Pls help

I’m writing today’s email from the floor of my balcony. Why, you ask?

Because today, the floor of my balcony is the only way I can be outdoors without running into the new neighbor I just met.

*sigh*

Let me explain…

You see, last week I decided to do something crazy: start working out.

What…?

Don’t look at me like that. When’s the last time *you* worked out?

Eh? You’re not gonna say anything? That’s what I thought. 🙃

Anyway.

So I went on Facebook and, to my surprise, I found a workout group that meets every Monday right in front of my block of flats.

Bingo!

The only problem? Err… the rules for joining them sounded quite intimidating (at best).

“DON’T bother joining the gang unless:

– you’re a REALLY fun person!!

– you’re interested in sport and nutrition

– you like to have a lot of fun!!”

Am I a fun person, ? Sure, I like to think so.

But a REALLY fun person? 

🤷‍♀️

Only one way to find out.

I call the ‘gang’ leader, and we agree to meet later that day.

“HelLoOoOoooo, you party animal!” she shouts from across the parking lot, waving her hands frantically.

Party animal? Me…?

Oh, God.

What have I gotten myself into?

“Are you ready to have some fuuun?!” she continues, swaying her hips to an imaginary rhythm. 

“Yeah… sure!” I say, taken aback by her sudden burst of energy, “So, what’s the plan?”

But she doesn’t answer.

Instead, she jumps in the air and lands into a sumo squat, followed by three rapid push-ups (the kind with a clap in between). 

“WOO!! Can’t help myself!”

That’s when I realize I’m probably not a ‘REALLY fun person. 

I defied the #1 rule of the gang. And I deserve to be eliminated (PLEASE).

We eventually meet the other three membersand I go through the most excruciating workout of my life.

“HOW MUCH LONGER?!” I shout, as I’m doing my 25th burpee, huffing and puffing all the way through.

“Oh, oops! I forgot to turn on the timer!” she shouts back, letting out a maleficent Mandark’s laugh, “Let’s just start over.”

HAVE MERCYYYY 😫😫😫

Once the hell is over, I proceed to say my I’ll-never-see-you-again-goodbyes so I can curl back into bed and read some well-deserved science fiction.

But no sooner have I stepped into the elevator, when…

DING!

DING! DING! DINGGGGG!

I receive an uncontrollable amount of text messages.

It’s her. The gang leader…

“Can’t wait to see you next week!”

“or maybe 6 am tomorrow morning?”

“Let’s go hiking, neighbor! WOOO!!”

Ermmm… nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Thug life ain’t for me, sista. 

Which brings me back here, on the floor of my balcony… where I will continue to be every single Monday from now on. Today’s tip?

Don’t join workout ‘gangs’. 

And snatch my storytelling mini-course. 

ONLY IF you’re a REALLY fun pers —

Just kidding. 

In fact, it’ll teach you how to turn the most boring day-to-day events into entertaining stories that help you stand out. 😇

Click here for more deets.

 

Emilia Tanase