Bitter – Sweet

I felt the stares from across the room. There is nothing Mukami could say or do that would undo how I felt; awful. It was my first day at dance class, I was excited, I had been looking forward to finally dancing off the fat that I had so “joyfully’ earned. The past few weeks I had kissed the sugar goodbye and now a few kilos lighter, I was ready to take off the pounds even harder.

The dance instructor walked in and gave everyone a warm welcome. Thank God he didn’t ask us to introduce ourselves. I wasn’t interested in making lasting relationships here. I just wanted to melt the fat and the problems that accompanied it away.

He cranked up the music and we were off. I was a bit itchy about 15 minutes in; my body had not experienced such activity in so long. It was fine, it was very Zumba-esque in the beginning then the complications began.

We were asked to partner up, now when you are 5’1” and weigh 90 kgs, you are less likely to have anyone running to pair up with your heavy self. The instructor paired with me, it was embarrassing. Everyone was looking at us for the instruction, I could feel their eyes stare at me and judge me. It was like school all over again. “Fatty Fatty Bamboola” they used to call out when I passed. In that class one guy, I later found out was called Francis, a real piece of work. He never really said anything so much as what he did.

Francis would do really juvenile stuff like hide my water bottle and towel. And constantly block my view of the instructor. If I was at the front to see the instruction; Francis would find a way to dance me out of the front. I had dealt with his crap long enough, I decided to hit back. This was me, the non confrontational one, confronting. I made sure Mukami was there for back up; what are friends for anyway?

Class began as always, we decided to start at the back and work our way to the front that was the plan, first we needed to be concealed by the rest of the class as we laced Francis’ towel with pepper. The next stop was his water bottle which we laced with laxative. And finally; my pride and joy, taking back the front row, where I needed to be to enjoy class.

After the first two set wrapped up, Francis, went like clockwork to his towel and smothered his face in it. The yelping began and the class burst into laughter, I made sure Mukami and I didn’t let on too much in our laughter. The second set of songs kicked off as people still giggled here and there. Instead of running out, Francis stuck his head through the window rinsing his face with water from his bottle, then took a swig at it a few times.

It was only 5 minutes later that Francis started to pause in the middle of songs, occasionally puffing his face as he hunched over, palms pressed hard against his knees. Whatever it was, it was coming and it was coming hard. First a fart emerged, the whole class stared at him, a second fart, the instructor turned off the music asking Francis to step out, then the third, that shit oozed out of his pants, streaming down his legs. That wasn’t funny anymore, that was catastrophically embarrassing.

Francis ran out, I felt guilty for a moment and then finally smiled, my best friend Mukami patting me on the back, I had finally got my revenge on that skunk. Needles to say, I moved to a different dance class to avoid Francis’ stupidity and potential revenge. I am happier, lighter and healthier now!

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