“I work at a gym and have never seen anyone do what you were doing,” one writes.
“Looks nothing like pulse squats,” another agrees.
Other commenters are angry at Ruvee for filming herself in a public place.
“Ban video recording in gyms!!” one demands.
“Cameras should be banned, and she should 100 per cent be banned forever,” another shares.
While a third writes: “It’s the facial expressions. Pulse squats is one thing but adding facial expressions to make it look like something else is where she went wrong.”
In the video, a man approaches Ruvee while asking: “What are you doing?”
She explains it’s a leg warm-up, and he replies: “I know what you’re doing.”
The man then accuses Ruvee of being ‘what’s wrong with girls’, at which point the woman asks him: “Are you pointing at me?”
He goes on to describe her behaviour as ‘ridiculous’ before kicking her phone away, seemingly breaking the screen.
Later on, Ruvee speculates that the man knew who she was and that he was angry because of her OFs fame.
“I can’t believe I’m not allowed to stretch at the gym because of what I do for work,” she shares on Instagram.
“Before I started OFs I was doing the same stretch before every leg day,” she says in a follow-up TikTok video.
“And all the people saying that I deserve to have my phone kicked, I deserve to be harassed in public because I was minding my business in the smallest corner of the gym… is there a rule that says no phones? No there’s not. Was it on a tripod? Was I being obnoxious? No, I wasn’t. Was I being loud? No.
“So it’s really sad to me to see all these comments saying that I deserve something because I went to the gym and was stretching.”
There has since been some speculation on X, formerly known as Twitter, about whether or not the video was a staged skit.
The Saga of My Husband, My Mom, and Rent: A Family Drama
Oh, the pleasures of family dynamics; those complex networks of affection, animosity, and, it seems, rent. What if I told you a small story from the front lines of my own soap opera to start things off?
Imagine this: Dad recently passed away and went to the great beyond, leaving Mom sad and alone. So, of course, I propose that she move in with us, partly out of compassion and partly out of sheer guilt. You know, to socialize with the grandchildren and take in the warmth of family.
Now enter my spouse, who has obviously been attending the “How to Be a Loving Family Man” course. His initial response was a firm no, but after some deft haggling on my part, he reluctantly agreed—but only under one condition. The worst part, get ready: my distraught mother would have to pay the rent.
You did really read correctly. Pay rent. in a home that we currently own and are not renting. Start the crying or laughing. His logic? He replied, grinning in a way that I can only characterize as evil, “Your mother is a leech.” “After she moves in with us, she won’t go.”
His reasoning continued, a train on the loose about to crash down a precipice. She simply doesn’t make sense to utilize anything for free when she will consume our food and electricity. This residence is not a hotel, and she has to know that!
With my blood boiling, I knew something was wrong. The reason for this issue is that I wedded a man who seemed to believe he was the Ritz-Carlton’s management. How daring! Here we are, with equal rights to the house, having both contributed to its acquisition, and he’s enacting capitalist regulations as if we were operating a profit-making Airbnb.
The worst part is that my spouse isn’t a horrible person. Really, no. He and my mother have simply disagreed from the beginning. He told me the truth about how he really felt the night he turned into Mr. Rent Collector. “Ever since I met her, your mother has detested me. She wouldn’t feel at ease living with me right now.
I am therefore torn between my mother, who is in great need of her daughter’s support, and my husband, whom I really love despite his imperfections. I ask you, dear reader, the million-dollar question: What should I do? In true dramatic manner. Shall I rent my mother a room or my husband’s empathy?
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