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Monday, September 24, 2012

A New Chapter Starts Part 8


Two O’clock rolls around and it is time to teach my first class. Behind the front desk is a microphone that can be heard through the entire club. 

Isabelle has warned me not to make my announcement until exactly five minutes before two.
She is teaching a step class for beginners from one until one fifty five. I am told that she doesn't want any announcements to mess up her class and to distract her students.

The ages of the women in Isabelle’s class range between sixty five and eighty five. The only stepping they do in class is to step touch again and again in different directions, resting for ten minutes for every five minutes of exercise. Watching her class, I’m sure that Isabelle was quite the tomato in her time.

Its five minutes before class. I pick up the microphone and announce “Come take step and stretch with Geoff at two O’clock.” I can hear it booming through the club. Then I add “It will be fun.”
Nothing happens. No one in the club moves.

“Maybe people are already in class waiting for you,” Rachel mumbles under her breath to me.

I walk into the exercise studio and see that there is no one in there. The clock on the wall reads exactly 1:59pm. I walk back to the desk and ask Rachel what to do. Rachel grabs the microphone and announces “Only one more minute before Geoff’s class, you want to get in there to find a space before it gets packed.”

Again, nothing happens and no one moves.

I see Dora standing around the corner with her arms crossed looking at us and looking at the clock. Suddenly she walks behind the desk and grabs the microphone from Rachel. “To hit spit in the wind you have to catch it yourself,” she says looking at us before bringing the microphone up to her lips.

“Hello everyone this is Dora, of Dora Dee Figure Salons,” she shouts into the mic. “You have exactly thirty seconds to march your fannies into the back room to take this class.” “I want to know that my money is well spent or I’ll have to fire him” she says. She then plunks the mic on the desk causing it to feedback.

Rachel does a slow pan to me. Her eyes are wide open and she is shaking her head back and forth. Dora points to me and says “Lickety Split.” She then walks back towards her office.

The women begin to file into the exercise room very slowly.

“At least you now have a class,” Rachel adds.

I walk into the room and it’s now packed with women milling, standing, sitting and literally laying on the floor. I have to step over people to get to the front of the room.

“Hi everyone,” I say. “My name’s Geoff and I,” Use the microphone someone screams from the back of the room. I apologize, walk over and turn the mic on. “Hi everyone, my name is,” Too Loud,” screams someone else from the back of the room.

The rest of the class follows this pattern. The women scream out “Too fast,” Too Slow,” “Talk Louder,” Talk Softer,” “Speed up,”and “Slow down!”

I constantly lean over and manipulate the speed control on the cassette player. I also have a corded microphone in my hand the whole time. Unwinding the cord with every move becomes part of my routine. I am sweating my ass off, climbing up and over the step, swinging the cord into the air so it doesn’t trip me up.

Several women in the back of the class have done nothing but sit there and talk the entire time. Every now and then one of them will do a random leg lift.

The class goes on forever. With ten minutes left, I do a cool down. Several of the women walk out of the room during this time.

I can see Dora standing next to Sharon in the back of the room with her arms crossed shaking her head. As I collect my cassette tape, more women file out. No one thanks me for class. I am a disaster.

Dora walks past me on her way back to the office. “Well that was one hell of a waste of time,” she says to me as she passes.

To be continued….

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.    


Monday, September 17, 2012

A New Chapter Starts Part 7


I knock quietly on Dora’s Door. I am looking for Sharon.

Dora calls me into the room. Takes one look at me and says “Hell’s bell’s what the hell do you have on?”

My uniform consists of tight black shorts and a t-shirt with a Dora Dee Figure Salon logo on it. The logo is a shapely pair of older woman’s legs wearing heels. “I was told to wear this,” I stammer. Dora sighs and looks at the ceiling.

Sharon stands and walks me towards the door. Dora glares at me. “Rachel is wearing the same outfit,” I say to Sharon. “I know honey,” she says walking me into the hall. Motioning her head in Dora’s direction she says, “Sometimes it takes her awhile to know what’s best for her.”

“You have a line forming at the rollers, can you show me what to do?” I ask.

Sharon picks up the pace getting to the front. The line is now 3 large women deep. Sharon motions one of the women on the table and directly on the roller.

Sharon speaks loudly enough for everyone on the floor to hear. She explains the health benefit of letting the roller massage the muscle and the fat surrounding the muscles. Apparently lying on this machine forces the pesky pounds to fall right off. Sharon reaches over and throws the switch. The rollers sound like a small airplane taking off.

The woman’s entire body begins to jiggle at a rapid pace.

“I,I,I,I, I, can feel it working,: the woman on the rollers moans. The other two women giggle and clap their hands. “I’m next,” “No, I’m next they argue and begin to push each other out of the way. I bite the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing.

“Geoff, go find Isabelle in the back to finish this up for me.” “She should be in the exercise room.”

I walk to the back of the club and into the exercise studio. There is blue shag carpet on the floor, paneling on the walls and an old crusty wall length mirror in the front.

Isabelle is finishing up class. There are two women in there with her. She has her hands on her waist and is twisting back and forth.

Isabelle is in her late 60’s. She is wearing a turtle neck long sleeved black unitard, her long grayish hair has been braided and piled on her head. On her feet she has high heeled character shoes. “Three more, two more and done,” she yells into the corded microphone. The women clap their hands to signal their gratitude.There is not a drop of sweat on anyone.

“Hi, my name is Geoff,” I say extending my hand to Isabelle. She looks at me as if I am handing her a fish. She turns her torso away from me and mindlessly covers her breasts.

I am the first and only man to ever work at Dora Dee. The women’s enthusiasm for me being there runs the gamut. Several women are excited that the club is changing and others are horrified that I am there and tell me so to my face.

Isabelle looks at me as if I just got off a UFO and I am asking to probe her. She quickly realizes that her mouth is hanging up and quickly composes herself. “Hello Geoff,” she says to me and looks at the other women.

“Are you in here to teach class?” she asks me. “I teach in about an hour, but Sharon sent me to find you.” Isabelle straightens up and suddenly looks as if someone finds her being here important.

“Then I shouldn't keep her waiting,” she says to me walking past.

I return to the desk and finish my training with Rachel.

To be continued……

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.   

Monday, September 10, 2012

A New Chapter Starts. Part 6


Working at Dora Dee’s Figure Salon for women, is pure hell. 

The little Texas spitfire that the place has been named after has a folksy way of telling you what to do. 

The problem I have is that I cannot understand a goddamned word of it. 

Dora speaks, looks at me and can’t seem to figure out why I’m not moving. She’ll then clap her hands and shout “Feet on a Jackrabbit.” I begin to understand that this means “Don’t just stand there, move!”

Where I am supposed to move is another thing that I am confused about.

Rachel, who works at the front desk, explains to me how things work around here.  My job consists of several duties that I need to check off on the daily chart. These I will rotate for the next 8 hours.

My first job of the day is to start on the floor. I am supposed to be helping women understand what they are doing and teach them the proper form for lifting weights.

There are a couple 2-5 pound weights. These are the heaviest weights the gym has. They can usually be found propping up the bookcase overflowing with old dusty issues of The National Enquire and People Magazine.

I suck in my breath as I approach two women. They are both in their late sixties. One of them wearing a long sleeve black turtle neck and full black tights. The other woman is wearing the exact same outfit except she is wearing the turtleneck version of the leotard.

The first woman looks up at me and says “Meow.” The woman with the turtleneck crosses her arms to cover her bosoms. “Good Morning, Do you ladies need any help with anything?” I say pushing on. “Anything?” purrs Catwoman rolling into a reclining position.

Turtleneck keeps repeating “Were fine thank you,” without once ever looking into my eyes.

I smile and walk away. Catwoman purrs “Shake it, don’t break it,” she says loud enough for me to hear then breaks into laughter.

There is not a lot of equipment in the club.There are 2 body rollers, a pull down and a leg machine that just opens and closes. 

The body rollers are these large tables with spinning rollers that roar to life when their switch is turned on. The theory is that if you lay  on the roller the fat will be pushed out.

I offer magazines and to dump the ashtrays to the women on the rollers. That’s another job I find I have. Dumping the ashtrays that line the work out floor and the club. This is supposed to be done while walking around.


My boss and the 2nd in command is Sharon. According to Dora, “Sharon had the big balls to hire me,” even though I am all “Catty Whompus.” Dora never says this to me but I hear her through the wall of the men’s room.


The men’s room is nothing more than a broom closet with a piece of paper that’s says “Men’s” taped to the door. It is also located directly outside of Dora’s office. The smell of Dora’s Aqua Net hair spray penetrates the Men’s room and I am always in a giddy state when I change my clothes.

Sharon explains to Dora that “The world is changing,” and that they need to make this club co-ed or they will have to close the doors for good.

“Hell rules the day this place gets pole axed” shouts Dora at the top of her lungs and then slaps her hand on the desk for emphasis.

Sharon is an expert at the rolling machines. We are supposed to get her anytime a new member wants a rolling.

To be continued……….

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.  

Monday, September 3, 2012

A New Chapter Starts. Part 5


The day comes and we get to meet David. It’s true, he is George Michael in his late 20’s, tight white tee shirt, cigarette hanging from one lip, tight blue jeans no imagination needed. 

I am immediately jealous of Billy.

David walks in slow motion across the room, extends one hand to me and I hear him say blah, blah, blah. 

His hazel, sometimes green eyes reflect back light that bounce into mine. Billy jumps around behind him and mouths the words “This is the one!” while pointing at David.

Adam jabs me in the ribs with an elbow after 5 minutes of talking to David. Apparently, I am mumbling incoherently and blabbing. Billy continues to flit around David.

I am blown away by David and everything about him. While we talk, he winks I am suddenly in ‘All about Eve” and Billy’s understudy and I want to go on. It’s been ten minutes since I’ve met David. Billy now becomes whiny bore.

I have rarely felt a connection like I have after 30 seconds of being in David’s presence. I want to be his everything and I want him to want me as well. Adam stops me from making more of a fool out of myself and drags me away.

The weeks that follow become all about David. I ask Billy what kind of toothpaste David uses, how often he sleeps at his house and “Does David always smell so good?” I secretly seethe when Billy talks about David and how often they bathe together.

My friendship with Billy is spinning out of control. I am so jealous of everything in his life and I am beginning to hate him. When Billy talks about how happy he and David are, Adam grabs my hand and stops me from choking him.

I talk to Adam and tell him everything. I am a horrible person. I am a pile of shit and I need to stop.  Bill sits on my bed at night and I imagine that it is David. He has snuck in the house to break up with Billy and carry me off. It gets me through the day, but I stay far, far away.

Friendship is very important to me.

David asks via Billy to have me come to the house and have dinner with them. I am busy until he dies, I think.


Weeks fly by. I finally get a job. I am the only man working at The Dora Dee figure salon on Central Avenue. I am teaching exercise classes to fat housewives who wonder “When the place became integrated?” Daily, I am ignored by women who wear black tights, lay around in the exercise room, slip into thinness on the fat rollers and smoke cigarettes in the parking lot.

It is the 80’s and Jane Fonda (that bitch, but that’s a future story) is all the rage. I am the women’s Richard Simmons. Anyone who is gay and  in the health field is compared to Richard Simmons daily.

There is actually a Dora Dee. She is 4 feet 2 inches, has her hair blown up to Jesus and talks with a Texas accent. “Suck it in girls and oh yeah..Geoff,” she says as she slides behind the front desk.

“Steers and Queers,” she says as she looks in my direction but doesn’t explain any more before walking off


To be continued……

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.


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