And Then I Gave Him the Finger…

A little over a year ago my fiancé gifted me a gift certificate at a local dance studio in Philly.

It was my Christmas present to be used for five hip hop dance classes per my request. Fast forward to exactly a year later and the gift card is about to expire.

Now I could sit here and give you a myriad of convincing reasons as to why I didn’t use the classes- a packed schedule and a back injury to name a few, but they would mostly be excuses.

Fact is I kept putting it off because I was nervous of taking the class and making a fool out of myself. There I said.

I am a GREAT dancer. It’s true, I know this. I get validation all the time. But choreography is a much different story and a lot of professional dancers hit up this place. So yeah. Nervous.

So here I am at the studio on the very last day I have to redeem my gift certificate and purchase my 5 class pass, 2 days before Christmas.

I give the young woman at the desk my gift certificate but she can’t find me in the system. Enter stage left the founder and director of the studio. Lucky me.

He looks at the rectangular slip of cream paper and points out a potential road block in my quest for finally shaking my ass to deep base and fierce rhythms.

When my fiancé purchased the gift card the person who sold it to him put the date he purchased it on the line that asks for the expiration date. So basically the gift certificate expired the day he bought it instead of a year later.

I explain this to the director and it is crystal clear he does not believe me.

He proceeds to talk to the woman about my situation in front of me as if I am not there. He tells her it would make way more sense if it was purchased in 2015 instead of 2016 because they no longer have 5 class cards or this archaic paper gift card system.

All I hear is “you are a liar.”

No he didn’t say that. But still this is what I hear.

Here’s the thing. People not believing me is a HUGE trigger for me.

It stems back to when I was 11-years old and most of my 5th grade class called me a faker when I showed up on crutches with an injury that didn’t have a diagnosis. Because one little popular blonde-haired demon told them so.

And the fact that it took doctors 13 weeks to finally figure out what was wrong with me didn’t help one bit.

So basically as I stood in this dance studio my 37 year old self transformed into the insecure 11-year old hobbling along on crutches and that director became the blonde-haired demon child.

I tell him I don’t really think I want to be a patron at an establishment where I am thought to be a liar. As I say this tears sting my eyes despite my efforts to keep them at bay.

He alludes to the fact that he doesn’t have any proof other than the words coming out of my mouth and he needs proof. He asks me if my fiancé could go back a year and produce his statement when he made the purchase.

I ask him why in the hell he should have to do that when the mistake is based off of his business’s incompetence.

We go back and forth for a bit longer as the young woman tries to find a way to make it work. I just keep getting more and more pissed off.

Finally I follow the advice of the little voice in my head telling me I should get out of there in a big dramatic way.

As the director is giving me a tutorial on the ins and outs of gift certificate purchases I snatch the piece of paper out of his hands and rip it in two right in front of his face.

I don’t think a single act ever felt so damn good. If only I could have stopped there.

I proceed to storm out of the studio turn left and as I’m walking past the glass window I look at the both of them sitting dumbfounded at the desk and give them the finger as forcefully as I possibly can.

Their mouths promptly dropped open like a baby bird begging for food.

I then realize that when I turned left out of the studio to get to my car that was only 50 feet away I was supposed to turn right and was actually walking the wrong way.

My pride would not let me walk past that window so I had to walk all the way around the block to get to my car. I cried the whole way.

While I felt good about my decision to rip up the gift certificate, I did NOT feel good about what proceeded it.

I think the last time I gave someone the finger was when my high school boyfriend was grinding with a random girl at some silly club. I was eighteen years old.

I don’t like forcing negativity on people. It doesn’t feel good for anyone involved. It didn’t feel in my integrity.

Shame flooded my bloodstream as the cool December air hit my face.

I was worried about making a fool of myself on the dance floor but wound up doing so right in the lobby.

This happened to be the very same week I was talking about kindness in my yoga classes.

What a freakin hypocrite I was. I spent the week talking about kindness and then gave some dude the finger. I mean he was a jerk face who made me feel like shit but still.

What would have happened if I was kind and compassionate?? That didn’t happen because I was triggered.

But also (and I hadn’t thought about this until a reader pointed it out and so I’m adding it in) maybe I have been socialized to feel bad about how I behaved. Because women (and yoga teachers) are “supposed to be” sweet and kind and quiet.

We are going to do things that make us want to cringe and hide under the covers. We may embarrass ourselves, or make scenes or be rejected.

And you know what? Sometimes we may need to. Sticking up for ourselves is not a bad thing.

And sometimes we will stop when we are head and sometime we may take it too far.

These things happen from time to time but we are wasting our time when let ourselves fall into the spirals of shame and guilt.

Hold yourself accountable when you fuck up. But also love yourself. Fiercely. 

Just one hour after the whole debacle I received a voicemail from the woman who was part of the mess.

She informed me that the director wound up searching their records and found the purchase. On the date I said. Duh. Why would I lie about hip hop classes?

So now I have to go back. Show my face. Do my dance. Be a big girl. I haven’t yet. But I will. I promise. I have till the end of March. And yes I will tell you all about it.

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