A friend from work and I usually go to Muscle Max on Wednesday mornings and spinning on Thursdays.  It’s a nice routine.  This week, though, friend has a meeting early on Thursday, so we decided to go to Tuesday morning spinning instead.

We’d been to Tuesday spinning once before and I vaguely remember not liking the instructor nearly as much as I like the Thursday instructor, but I figured I must be exaggerating that in my head.

Wrong.  Not exaggerating.

Instructor Lady walks in and the first thing she says is “you guys, I totally got called back for Cabaret, so since I’m going to be dancing at my audition later I’m not going to be on the bike this morning.  I don’t want my legs to be like jelly.”

Now, I may be a demanding jerkface, but I strongly prefer it when the instructor is sweating along with you- it makes me hate them less when they yell at you to “push it!” or “keep going!” because hey, if they can do it, I can do it.  When they’re casually standing off to the side, exhorting you to “stop being such a wimp!” I get a little testy.

But the worst of it was, the instructor used that time when she was not on the bike to rehearse her dance routine for us. “It’s Cabaret, so it’s, like, Fosse, you know?” she said.  “You have to kind of round your shoulders and carve out your midsection and kind of turn your knees in?”

And for the rest of class, while we tried not to die on the bikes, she kept talking and talking and talking about Fosse, and singing along to the music, and dancing, and doing little steps, and at one point she asked us how one particular step looked and whether we thought she would get the part and OH MY GOD ANNOYING.

For at least 10 minutes after class, my friend and I debated writing a comment card about it.  We elected not to, because we didn’t really want to get her in trouble or anything, but seriously: Fosse?  In spin class?  No.  Just no.

And now, since I am already afflicted with this earworm and would like company in my misery, I leave you with Beyonce’s highly Fosse-esque video: