Would THIS spin you out, too?
What the Fuck is a FUN FACT?
Recently, I signed up for an online trainer. I’ll do two FaceTime sessions a week. Weightlifting. I gotta build more muscle.
So when I got the signup questionnaire, I wasn’t expecting this:
How will you fit training into your schedule?
What are your physical fitness goals?
TELL ME A FUN FACT ABOUT YOURSELF!
A fun fact?
Now I’m Spinning…
And I don’t mean spin class. I do my best spinning in my mind. That question haunted me for a week. Kelly the Trainer kept texting me reminders:
"Don’t forget to answer your three onboarding questions!"
And all I could think was, “Why do you need to know a fun fact to help me deadlift?”
Here’s the thing: I’m ADHD and autistic. I’m literal. I’m emotionally reactive. And I cannot—cannot—process why this is relevant. I’m here to talk about dumbbells versus medicine balls and making sure to build so much muscle that I cheat death.
Do we need to bond over fun facts? Will that prevent Osteoporosis?
Is Complex PTSD Fun?
The real problem is that “fun” is subjective. To me, fun means something unusual. Here’s what I could’ve said:
I like reading 4 books at once. Right now, I’m into any memoir about women leaving their husbands, becoming polyamorous, and realizing they’re bisexual.
I’m also reading about Complex PTSD, highlighting, and taking notes.
I watch and read anything about Nazis. I will cancel plans to do so.
I like wearing sheet masks on my face when I do this reading and watching.
wHaT iS fUn?
I looked up while I pondered and there was my answer. I have leopard-print wallpaper on the ceiling of my bedroom. It sounds gross, like the decor at a Swingers resort, but it’s actually chic.
The Leopard Print Wallpaper On My Ceiling
I refused to write this down because I fundamentally disagree with the premise that she needs this information in order to help me squat without fucking up my knees. In the end, I cracked under the pressure and passive-aggressively wrote: “My fun fact is that I refuse to do burpees or push-ups, and I won’t argue about it.”
During our first FaceTime session, she said, “Okay… that wasn’t quite a fun fact.” So, I caved. I brought the phone into my room, pointed it at the ceiling, and revealed my leopard-print peel and stick. She said, “Wow!” in the same tone you’d use to praise a kid’s macaroni art. She didn’t care. And you know what? I didn’t care that she didn’t care. It’s all good! Can we please talk about tricep kickbacks now?
Here is a photo of my wallpapered ceiling.
I mean, it IS fun.
But I don't want to talk about it while I’m holding a plank for thirty seconds.
