A Minute Minute in the Life of a First Grade Gymnastic Champion

Back when I was in, what, first grade? First grade. Back when I was in first grade I belonged to the YMCA. I took this gymnastics class. I thought it was going to be the best goddamn thing ever. But first of all: why can’t it be called the YWCA? For Young Women’s Christian Association. Or maybe it should be called something like YICA, like Young It’s Christian Association. Furthermore, why must it be Christian? Why not, say, Buddhist? Or Muslim?

Anyways, I went into the class and I was all “yeah! This is gonna be great! I’m gonna learn how to do a back flip! And I can jump on the trampoline for as long as I want!!!” Yeah . . . well, no. It turns out they didn’t even have a trampoline. Sheesh. Stupid gits. I mean if I had known that they didn’t have one, I wouldn’t have joined the stupid class in the first place. Though, they did have those awesome rings, but we used them like, what, once? Twice. God. Then they taught us how to do somersaults. C’mon, my CAT can teach me how to do those! I mean, lame-o.

Overall, though, I had a ton of fun and made a bunch of friends. Nevertheless, the instructor’s breath smelled something bad, so I quit. The END!