I may or may not have written about this before, but it’s something that I deal with a lot.
When I first met Franz, we set some ground rules. His were dumb… like no laughing, no joking, no talking, pay attention, listen, safety first. All really ridiculous.
My rules, on the other hand, were extremely important, and much needed. Franz’s rules for training Ally are as follows:
1. Just deal with me.
2. Understand that I WILL complain. You can’t change that.
3. No matter what, I am going to talk, and most likely try to make you laugh.
4. If my shirt is lifting up, you must tell me. If I can’t move my hands, you must fix it for me.
5. If I have mascara running down my face, you must tell me, so I can clean it up and not look like a raccoon.
6. Know that I am going to pick my wedgies, and I don’t care who sees, or if you’re embarrassed by me.
7. (last but not least) Warn me if I forgot to shave my armpits on upper body day.
I mean, seriously? These aren’t hard, right? Like, he can handle these. It’s basically common courtesy and respect for the one you are training. Right?
The other day he failed on one, and I left looking like I had been punched in the eyes. Listen, I don’t do my make up to go to training. I work all day, and I have make up on so I don’t look like I’m sleeping, and at the end of the day I go to train. Obviously when I go, my make up is still on, which just adds to the fabulousness of me. Well, the other day, I sweat that shit right off. It pooled under my eyes, and I failed to check my face in the mirror in my car when I left. I proceeded to head to Target (fucking vortex), and did a whole ton of shopping for shit I didn’t know I needed, and when I left the store I FINALLY looked in the mirror.
There was a goddamn curly haired raccoon looking back at me.
P.S. Writing this made me realize what an absolutely refined lady that I really am.