To Your Health.

I regularly attend, and pay for, a special kind of torture known as Full Mighty Boot Camp. I do this not because I’m a sadist, but because, for the first time in my life, my butt cheeks have a hint of shape to them  and no longer resemble the two flattened end pieces of a loaf of Wonder Bread. 

Tonight, while gripping a fitness ball between my ankles and pointing my toes to the ceiling AND doing a full sit-up ALL while my instructor’s iPod was stuck looping my most hated song on her playlist (which features childlike voices chanting: higher and higher and higher) I thought am I in hell?

And then I sneezed, which is incredibly risky if you’re in such a vulnerable  position and have also consumed 13 grams of fiber for breakfast. I am happy to report that my vise-like gluteus maximi girded like they’ve never done before and my dignity was saved. 

But that’s not what this is about. 

After the sneeze, my instructor said, “Bless you.” And, continuing to exhibit good manners, I said, “Thank you.”

When class was over, a friend asked me what I do about the whole “bless you” thing, given my known aversions. She’s of a similar mindset, but continues to give blessings out of politeness. Even though she’s not into it. And I continue to thank people who give blessings, even though I’m not into it and also don’t reciprocate. She doesn’t like feeling false to her beliefs because she does it, and I don’t like that I seem rude because I don’t. 

After a good discussion about other cultures’ ways of responding to a sneeze, we settled on ¡Salud!

I’ll be testing it out starting tomorrow. To (I hope) the mystification of my coworkers.

PS: The hated song is Passion Pit’s Little Secrets. Fuck those assholes.