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Kickboxing Cult

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I’ve decided to try kickboxing.

No, I haven’t suffered a blow to the head. But give me time, I probably will when I start.

The thing is, I think I may have inadvertently joined a cult. I say that based on my first phone call to them.

I got their special “Think Pink!” deal where, for $9.95, I receive three classes and a pair of pink boxing gloves.

The first class is an orientation class. Apparently, as a newbie, I won’t do the full warm-up, and I’ll get someone to work with me to learn the moves. Which is cool.

But they were way too excited about it.

“We’re like family here!”

“Oh, that’s your friend who recommended us! We love here! She’s only been coming for a few weeks but everyone loves her!”

“We’re like family here!”

“You can find us right by this Mexican restaurant! But don’t eat there because it’s too good, and you’ll want to keep eating there, and then you won’t lose weight!”

“We’re like family here!”

“Class starts at 7:30! But this is your orientation, so be there promptly at 7!”

“We’re like family here!”

“You only do 45 minutes of the hours because we need time to talk to you about signing up!”

“We’re like family here!”

I’m three days out from my first class, and I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I may do great. I may pass out. I may throw up.

But I’m not going to join a cult. Unless it’s a really, really reasonably priced one.

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