Fictionary: Coreo

Fictionary is a column showcasing beauty- and fitness-related words that don’t exist, but should.


Look. In New York City, personal space is at a premium. So when I get to a Core Fusion class at Exhale (my go-to location is Gramercy) 15 minutes early, I snag a non-grody mat and throw my sweat towel on one of the barre spots that’s on an end. So I can be sure I’m not in the center of two people aggressively stretching in my teeny tiny space. I can’t even talk myself into GOING if I know I’m going to be in someone’s armpit/in between two people (i.e., a Coreo) WHILST enduring a seriously tough (but effective) class. That’s why I get to class early enough to establish my plum spot. 

So please tell ME why when I’d marked my territory with a towel I had to have a conversation with a girl who fully IGNORED said towel and was ballerina-stretching all over my barre about possibly moving one down when that’s the OBVIOUS policy? She was all, “Oh, do you want me to move?” I don’t want you to move, doll. I want you to respect the AUTHORITA that arriving early and snagging your spot YIELDS. Don’t just glide into a gal’s space and be all imperious about it when I ask you what you’re DOING there. 

Rant over. Has this happened to you? Have you been a Coreo when you’ve taken various and sundry steps not to be? Share.





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