OY!

The Yiddish word, ”oy” may be uttered by young and old, Jew and non-Jew. According to Merriam Webster, it is an exclamation used to express exasperation or dismay. It can mean, “OMG, that was so hard,” or “This is so sad,” or “What the heck did I get myself into this time?”

You might say I am a woman of a certain age who has felt the sting of ageism in this youth oriented, looks obsessed culture.When one looks around at all the misguided souls who went under the knife to look younger and came out misshapen caricatures of their former selves or sees all the talent that’s left on the wayside in favor of younger, more attractive replacements (like our beloved Laker, Derek Fisher), it’s no wonder that so many of us go in search of that mythical fountain of youth.

For me Groupons and Amazon Local Deals have made the arduous trek toward eternal youth more affordable - but fraught with unforeseen dangers and major “oys.” My first foray into the wondrous world of discounted services was a ten-session membership at a local yoga school.

I thought yoga would be a nice, gentle way to start on the road to rejuvenation. After three sessions, I wound up with a torn rotator cuff and six months of physical therapy. While recovering from my injury, I fed my addiction to discounts with coupons for revitalizing facials, invigorating mani/pedis, and restorative massages. I left the skin spa with a red face and two scars that have not yet healed. At the nail salon, I wound up with a fungal infection. And the masseuse in training at the massage school? She pressed all the wrong pressure points. When I walked out, I had to rush to a licensed massage therapist   This “deal” wound up costing me $150 extra.

Since then I have tried to curb my obsession with cut-rate deals that promise youth and beauty, but when I recently saw the offer for a Pilates Class that was more than just Pilates, for an amazing low price, I couldn’t resist.

I got there early. I handed in my Groupon Voucher and filled out a standard form releasing them from any indemnity should I injure myself or die on the machines. I then made the mistake of looking at the machines. They weren’t the standard benign looking Pilates beds. These looked like ancient torture machines - black metal, extremely long structures with ominous-looking springs and pulleys much like The Rack. And, atop the machines and milling about were some of the most gorgeous, very young, buff women who looked as if they had been weightlifting at Gold’s Gym since birth. What had I gotten myself into?

The instructor set me up on the machine and every now and then corrected my form and removed springs as I struggled. But I was in trouble and I knew it. “Lift yourself on one arm, now move your right leg over your left hip. Push and push and move and move. And turn. Now do it on the other side,” yelled the drill sargeant, er, instructor. Commands came at me faster and faster. The exercises got harder and harder. And why were there so many mirrors?

Did I actually have to look at myself in these outlandish contortions? And see all those gorgeous Miss Americas going through the paces as if they were nursery school games? The mirror had become my enemy. All I could see was my sweaty face and loose flesh jiggling with each move. When had my once firm arms grown Bat Wings?

After fifty-five minutes of grueling exercise, thirty minutes of laughing at myself, and three glasses of water, I walked over to the instructor and admitted I had probably made a mistake to join these classes. She glared at me and said, “Sorry, no refunds.”

All in all, in search of the magical youth cure, I have spent well over $800 on these supposed deals, suffered injuries, infections and deflated self-esteem. I wonder if there is a twelve-step program that could help me. And, please, let me cure my addiction to Groupons and Amazon Local deals before I see an offer for discounted cosmetic surgery. “Oy.”