To My Super Hot Kick-Fit Instructor…

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To My Super Hot Kick-Fit Instructor,

I know you had no idea I was having a rough morning, as my cat had gotten out of the house yet again on one of her epic attempts at living wild in the mean streets of Helena. Having to crawl under the front porch is not my ideal way of starting my day, but I feel a certain responsibility in keeping her safe, even though she is determined in testing this sense of responsibility to its fullest.

You don’t know my name. But I’m sure you have seen me flailing around in your loyal crowd of followers, you even once told me to “kick higher”… I will never forget that day.

Oh my sweet Beth…I think your name is Beth? I usually just refer to you as that “Super Hot Babe” who teaches kick-fit at my gym. The human body is such a complex piece of machinery, some machines look and work better than others wouldn’t you say?  Although, you probably haven’t paid much attention to it, given that you are a twenty-something piece of machinery that is hotter than a pair of Jordan’s during a Baltimore riot.

I really like the beginning of each class, you come bouncing into the room with your usual perky demeanor, always wearing a torn tank top that reveals your perfectly sculpted abs and that perfect little waist. Your body retains a bronze glow year round thanks to your belief in religiously spray tanning each day. One day your perfect body will succumb to the forces of nature or childbirth but until then enjoy showing off every inch of that beautifully bronzed machine of yours, as we or at least me enjoys watching the fruits of your labor.

Anyways, this morning you bounced into class announcing that you just “Pulled yet another all-nighter, but you aren’t going to go easy on us, so no excuses”  I just love that about you. We all Whooped and Hollered in reply to your proclamation like little fools, you ignited a spark in us, believe me I felt my “spark” come alive, secretly wishing I could show my “spark” to you.

Also I always enjoy your choice of music for each class, instead of kicking and thrusting it makes me want to dance, dance with you, so desperately I want to dance with you. And it’s not just because you’re smoking hot and when I try to mimic your moves the music takes hold, at times it really is hard to contain myself, like this morning when we were doing our high kicks to the song “Momma said knock you out”  I wanted to rush right in front of you just to have you accidentally kick me and knock me out, it was a desperate thought of a desperate man I will admit that.

It’s been so long since I have felt the warmth of another’s touch, or kick, there is a point at which your body becomes a bruised bag fruit that you haul around, waiting for it to finally rot and return to the mysteries of the earth, the earth for whence we all came, thus completing yet another karmic cycle in the “Higher Powers” odd little merry-go-round in the cycle of life and death….You know what I’m talking about don’t you Beth?

You see the thing is I didn’t plan on being in my forties with a cat as my only source of companionship, and this rheumatoid arthritis wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan either, there is no way for a guy like me to tell a pretty young thing like yourself that I have RA without sounding like your grandpa, not very attractive is it Beth?

Well Beth, you are my Queen of Kick-Fit, you and you alone provide sweet, sweaty, sexy relief for 60 minutes several times each week. For that, I owe you my eternal gratitude.

And when you made eye contact with me this morning, and gave a half smile in my direction, it made all my troubles, even the RA pain disappear for a brief moment, I can’t thank you enough for that special one on one attention. I will always be your loyal and humble servant each Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings.

Your Biggest Fan

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