we have a trainer at work. he comes in twice a week clad in lululemon. his name is ramses. yes, ramses like the pharaoh in the ten commandments but he looks like the genie from alladin, minus the blue skin. he shaves all of his hair, except for his soul patch. greek tattoos adorn his massive arms.
he likes to talk trash and he kicks my trash. sometimes i remind him that he is too white bread to bust out his gangsta lingo. he quickly responds with a “what what?” no matter how hard i laugh.
every few months he takes measurements and evaluates our progress. it’s usually during these sessions he says something hysterical like, “i’m really seeing progress in your butt.”
other times he gives out unrelated advice or observations. like the time he stopped what he was doing to exclaim, “i don’t think i’ve ever seen someone whiter than you! you are really white!” this was after i returned from a sun filled vacation.
last week i mentioned i was considering a hair cut. in between exercises on the TRX i complained about how slow my hair grows, i’ve been growing it out for 6 1/2 years now. ramses cut me off and suggested women of a certain age should definitely not have long hair. he then said my hair shouldn’t be past my shoulders… crickets… and then, he realized what he had said.
i chopped quite a bit of hair off on saturday. no one really seemed to notice – maybe they were relieved a woman of my certain age wasn’t trying to rock the long hair. at least i don’t shout out “what what?”
ramses’ response to seeing my hair today, “i like it! it’s so much sexier and now!”