I went to the gym today. Where's my parade?
Somehow, I always worry that the "gym people" are going to give me crap about the fact that at one point in my life I was there every day, taking classes, weight training, and doing cardio, and I was 50 lbs. lighter than I am now. However, it's not those "gym people" who say nasty things to me, it's the snide little voice inside my head.
So I went. I forgot how inspiring that place is. It just makes me smile to see a class full of women, the youngest of whom is probably in her late forties, all doing aerobics (with the dance version of "Lift us up where we belong" blaring in the background.)
I also saw a little old lady with her white perm (you know the one I am talking about!)
She was heading slowly throigh the parking lot (towards what I assume is her water aerobics class) wearing what appeared to be an electric purple bathrobe with a red sash, and a pair of neon green Aqua Sox.
Whenever I pull into the parking lot, I have to laugh. It's mostly luxury cars with a few minivans sprinkled in, and all the cars are ivory, gold, silver, or black. The two standouts are my purple Sebring, and then some other upstart has an electric blue PT Cruiser.
So, I went back to my old boyfriend, the Precor Elliptical. Pretty smooth sailing, I just did my 30 minute workout, 5 minute cooldown, and sailed on out the door.
Somehow, I must have blacked out, because I ended up at WalMart. I freaking hate WalMart. Something random always happens to me when I am there, and I can never find what I'm looking for. But Target wasn't open yet, plus I was in my yoga pants and not weating makeup. So I just bit the bullet, zipped up the hoodie sweatshirt, and headed towards the front doors.
Here's the part where I give the shout out to the guy who stalked me all through the place.
Thanks, jerkoff. If I wanted to have you follow me up and down the aisles in the skincare section, through Movies and Electronics, and over into Women's Clothing, I'd be wearing my sign.
I really appreciate the way you kept smacking your lips every time I turned back to glare at you. Nice touch.
While you may think that I'd appreciate the implication that I am irresistible when I am sweaty and makeup-free with scroungy hair under flourescent lighting in a discount store, you are dead wrong.
I do admire your multi-tasking abilities: You made me feel threatened, reinforced my decision never to go back to WalMart, and perpetuated racial stereotypes all at the same time! At least the WalMart decision should be considered a public service. The other two variables kind of suck.
Falling back on Pretty in Pink, I hope it shrivels up and falls off, OK?