The smell of the locker room assails you like the balls that will later assail your clumsy body. There is a combined scent of perfume so heavily applied it makes you want to gag, a slight hint of B.O. and flowery-smelling deodorant. When you enter, you see girls in various states of dress gossiping and chattering idle chitchat. Some girls might be smoothing their hair and gym clothes, virtually ready to leave but holding back. If you come early enough, you will see the girls from the previous period sitting on the benches, applying makeup and standing by the door.
Of course, I'm sure the guys' locker room is a completely different story. The path to the girls' locker room does not require passing the guys' locker room so I don't know what the high school version of a boys' locker room would be. The middle school one... God, that was nasty. And when I mean nasty, I mean nasty. A wave of Axe (is that supposed to be sexy and smell good? That's stuff is freaking foul) and B.O triple what's in the girls' locker room. It would come in waves so strong they could knock someone out who wasn't accustomed to the smell (I can only imagine what it would be like actually inside).
Unfortunately, the locker rooms are only one part of the evil that is gym class. No, it gets worse.
Then, after taking the time to change, having to sit in that role line and listen to boring directions that you couldn't even understand half of the whole time. Or you might forget to change and be told how you have to make it up and soon (while scampering with your book and reading the rest of the period).
But no, no. If it was just that then maybe I could survive. Unfortunately, it isn't. After that comes the second half of the period. The part where I have to actually do something.
I usually just zone it out and run with my team from the end of the field and back. It's like I dissociate or something, because it's not like I could survive it if my mind was fully aware of my surroundings.
On top of that, I have to deal with this stupid-ass boy. Now this kid looks like he could be in elementary school which is probably why he is such an annoying little shithead to begin with (a sufferer of Short Man Syndrome or, as I like to say, Tiny Dick Syndrome). He usually taunts and yells at me the whole period but at this point he's just background noise. I also have to occasionally deal with the gym teacher yelling at the girls on my team to "try harder!". For the purposes of this post, I will call him Tiny.
This is what the average gym class is like for me:
Some jock girl or some guy has the ball in their hand or near their foot. Some other jock girl/ guy intercepts it and it comes flying near my head. At this point, my head snaps up and I halfheartedly try to get it and I fail.
Tiny: "C'mon, Mandals (man + sandals = mandals)!"
Now, if it weren't for him, I would be a simple shadow to the others. To the eyes of the other girls on my team and the guys, I am not even something that comes in their radar. Of course I ignore him but again he interjects.
Tiny: "Come on! God, what are you a fucking retard, Mandals?"
Me: "No, I just don't give a shit. Leave me alone." Sometimes I don't say anything but still this kid will not shut up. Sometimes his friend joins in too but leaves me alone in my acting class.
Of course, I dissociate more thinking random thoughts and sometimes thinking of scenes one of the books I am writing or planning on writing. Occasionally, I am forced to run somewhere and when I do I tell myself it burns calories.
And then everyone goes over and hands in their team belts so I know that class is mercifully over.
Oh and of course it will take a freaking miracle for them to stop gym class. They give us the minimum amount of time to change and even then the bell rings just as I take my shirt off in the locker room. We have to get every minute in.
One time, they made us play even as it was spitting. It continually got worse but still we played. Only as it was pouring did they finally let us stop and we ran for the door. My hair, which I work so hard to straighten in the mornings, was totally curled and I was soaking wet. I couldn't even see out of my glasses. Some girls' mascara was streaming. Getting in, there was a loud uproar of complaint. When I went to my next class, people asked if I had just gone swimming.
As you might have guessed, I had gym today. It sucked as usual, just as it will continue to suck throughout high school. Of course, it was pretty sucky today but at least I didn't sweat or freeze my ass off.
I don't even understand the point. If I want to be fat and obese, I should have the right to. I can simply pay higher health insurance when I'm older. Anyway, I really don't see how that affects my learning.
My parents are all like, "Gym is the only exercise you get." To that, I say that I only really exercise during the fitness testing and the other times I'm just there being nagged. It's almost like serving detention but it's worse (I've served detention once so I have experience). I'd say that walking/ running up the three flights of stairs in my school are a much more effective form of exercise than gym. Anyway, with that argument, shouldn't I not be required to take them if I pass the tests?
If you want gym, you should be allowed to take it. If you're like me, however, then another elective would be of much more use. I actually think that it would be better for all of the serious jocks out there not to have to deal with preppy girls and nerds like me but be able to play a decent game. And of course, we would benefit from not having them yell at us.
The gym teachers would argue otherwise but I suppose they would do so because their jobs depend on it (kind of like why cops support banning pot).
And every other day for three years of high school (you take health sophomore year at my school)? Really? That's just ridiculous.
Basically, gym is an evil, evil subject. I actually would rather take a math test than sit through gym and that's saying something.
Maybe all of those like-minded people can pass an anti-gym bill when we're older. For now, we will have to suffer alongside countless other poor American kids who are forced to endure this terrible class.