I-joined-a-gym-shut-up. I have a bad back and a giant ass, and when school gets out my days as a stay-at-home-mom will have to be occupied by staying home and being a mom. Boo.
It’s one of those 24-hour places, which is just as creepy as I assumed it would be, but not as obnoxious as going there during the day when it’s full of people. At night there are about 5 other people. No one looks at or acknowledges each other’s existence in any way, and that’s fine with me.
There are a couple of those “gorilla” dudes. At least that’s what they’d be called if they could find their way to the Jersey Shore. Mellow Gold really is the perfect aging-slacker-with-a-bonafide-phobia-of-jogging-with-boobs workout album, but during the song breaks I can hear the gorillas grunting and I look over (but not directly at them per the rules I made up), and they’re making these matching faces, and I think their heads are gonna explode, and I’m definitely taking pics of that.
I do the elliptical and the treadmill because those are the only things I know how to use, and the elliptical is still a big joke. I have an appointment scheduled with some trainer who’s gonna help me by showing me what I should be doing which will ruin everything. It’s during the day. I’ll probably burst into flames. I’m a vampire except for the blood-drinking and being sexy parts. (Which reminds me, on the way home I stopped for gas and waited three years in line behind some boomer filling up 3 gas cans. I’m pretty sure she’s using the gas to kill her husband in an dramatic fashion tonight.) BUT, he’s the gatekeeper to some sort of hot-water-jet-tank thing they have, and that thing is mine!
There are a couple of normal looking chicks there too. They’re like me except they jog, and that makes my boobs panic. It’s gonna take a psychiatrist to get these girls jogging; I hope trainer-guy understands that. His boobs don’t mind jogging, but they have the consistency of doorknobs. At least that’s what it looks like in my mind. I’ve never seen the guy.
The best part is what’s outside the floor to ceiling wall of window, which is definitely preferable to mirrors. This guy stared at me the whole time, except for when he took a break to wink. That’s right.
And the best, best part is the motel across the parking lot. It is the saddest, most glorious hunk of humanity I’ve seen in months. It’s truly a motel in that the room doors open to the outside, and this one is two stories with a score of new muses milling about ripe for my plucking. Turns out the plucking can be literal for a teener and a slurpee. There was a fat kid skateboarding in his stocking feet.
I SAID THERE WAS A FAT KID SKATEBOARDING IN HIS STOCKING FEET.
His pants kept falling down. Deleted mean thing about my ex.
And those are the things I thought about at the gym tonight.





