I'm Kinda Socially Inappropriate

I try to be a lady. Really and truly I do. Unfortunately, my natural tendencies don't always allow me to be the polite, refined, leg-crossing, pearl-wearing paragon of femininity I fantasize about being. For one, I value my lounge-y pants too much. Secondly, I cuss ... and it literally just slips out sometimes. Like a fart. Which brings us to my number three hindrance to being ladylike: I think farts are funny.

Apparently ladies don't find farts amusing.

Ladies probably don't act the way I did at the gym last night, either.

See, I teach Zumba on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. And right before my Zumba class is a nice little circuit-training class. It's a half-hour series of toning exercises, during which we use weights and those big bouncy exercise balls and these big stretchy rubber resistance bands and stuff.

Before each exercise, our instructor explains how to do it. And that explanation is typically prefaced by the name of the exercise: Monkey Jacks. Mountain Climbers. Adductor Raise. Lateral-something-or-other. It's usually nothing to laugh about.

But last night? He said, "This next one is called the Ball Squeeze."

Y'all. He said the ball squeeze.

You have to remember that I live in a houseful of dudes (who are naked at least half of the time). I see more testicle-gripping than a urologist. So when I hear "ball squeeze," my mind automatically goes ... well, you know, south.

And I started laughing.

I tried not to. Seriously. I tried so hard. But you know how when you try not to laugh, it only makes you want to laugh harder? Yeah: that was me. Standing there with my lips clamped together, trying to stem the tide of hilarity that was bubbling dangerously up from inside, convulsing with laughter. At first it was silent. Then little snorts and snickers involuntarily escaped my nose. My eyes were welling up with tears. I couldn't help it.

So then people were looking at me. And a couple of them started laughing, too ... which made it worse. Now the tears were actually streaming down my face. I finally had to turn away and get a drink of my water in order to get myself under control.

I'm pretty sure a lady wouldn't dissolve into uncontrollable laughter over the phrase "ball squeeze."

... Which makes me pretty sure I'm not a lady.



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