New Year's Resolutions

We've discussed my resolutions so let us now discuss yours. But first, if you'll excuse the expletive, put some fucking clothes on! Yeah, I know, this is the year you are going to shape up, lose that baby fat that's been clinging to your for, well, your entire life. Kudos to you, you will be happier and healthier and maybe some man will want to see you naked once you've become this new toned you. But you aren't her yet. And I sure as hell am not that man! Lotion up in a towel. Wrap the towel around your chest like a woman, which I assume you are be aus you've been hanging around the woman's locker room with your tits out with a towel around your waist. And as I dress as discreetly as Gumpossible why do you feel the needs to completely nude-up and slather your self up? This is not your home this is a locker room, you know, semi-public space without curtains and doors and the like. Cover up. I'm sure by now anyone who knows me or has read this blog is tired of my sort-of-homophobic anti-locker-room-exhibitionist rants. I know I am. So remember: if you can't stand to look at it in the mirror, don't make me look at it Which reminds me of a text message my former bossman sent me Sunday last. The context being the flamboyant man in the white spandex shorts, aided in its concealment efforts by an over the shorts thong. The texted expressed both shock and horror, not at the fact that this man was dressed in such an oddly outdated way but horror at how unfit the man's bum looked in his shorts. Spandex thong man, my previous expletive exclamation applies to you too.

The Artful Waggle: Updated

I was in the town that I went to college in last night. That's a horrible sentence but bear with me here.


So I was back at school and my friend and I went to my favorite restaurant, the famous Earth and Tea Cafe, for tea and Princess Cake (you have no idea what you're missing). On our way to the car after tea and shopping I spotted a glorious waggle. It was yet another man waggle, I tend to notice them more because, well, lady boobs aren't really my thing. This man had a front and back waggle, hips and buns swinging in his swishy pants on his way to the only athletic establishment in the tiny downtown area, the stripercize studio.

Good for him, you know, if your best assets look best bouncing why not bounce them in style while toning and strengthening your body, mind and spirit? Oh, so stripping isn't the same as yoga or meditation or long distance running?

My statement stands: If you bounce best, bounce well.

But I should also clarify that I don't want this to be something I an forced to observe while trying to diminish my midsection bounce while bounding doing a stationary machine that somehow forces me to look at myself run even if the TV is turned on to such exercise shows as Top Chef: Just Desserts. I don't want to see boobs, I don't want to see bums and I sure as hell don't want to see them in all of the splendor while I'm attempting to be discrete.

The waggle has a scary side and it is apparent in the locker room. While I'm not privy to what goes on in a men's locker room (and am eternally grateful because if it's half as bad as what goes on in the ladies' locker room I'd die) the women's locker room is where the waggle rears its ugly head and causes nightmares. I will never judge a fatty at the gym, I am not so stealth myself, and it can only be an improvement for their health, what I will judge is the lack of shame some people feel in a locker room. I have had a few encounters with men in the locker room, more than enough to keep any need to uncover  covered, but I hide when it's just the ladies too.

Some people not so much. My favorites are the towel on the head ladies, they like to put lotion on their legs while using the counter to prop up said legs while only wearing the aforementioned towel. I also like the large lady whose aquatic class has tuckered her out so thoroughly that she has to sit her naked bottom on the bench to get dressed, this lady is always social. All of these ladies are wiggling and jiggling into their clothes and entire bodies waggle. Entire bodies!

Please, if you dare, share your waggles with me, sexy and un. But be kind, use words not visuals.

Thunder Thighs

I've got awesome legs. Short chubby awesome legs. I'm not claiming they're perfect, they'll never be asked to grace a runway or be asked to model shoes. My legs are my very one little thing and not conventionally attractive.

Today I was at the gym making my legs wonderful and was super frustrated with them. No, not my legs I supposed, rather I was frustrated with my shorts which kept grabbing my thighs and restricting my range of motion. I mean really shorts why must you stick to my legs so?

So to fix my short issues I'm going to plea with the people who make athletic shorts.

Dear Athletic Short Makers

Would you be so kind to make your leg opening in your shorts just a bit bigger?

Thanks!
Thunder Thighs

Plight of the Feet

Here us now!

We are sore, and don't claim rest and recuperation! Get new shoes!


The feet are right. I need to get out of the habit of buying cheap shoes (which I spelled schools the first time I typed it, sup with that Freud?) and go back to buying shoes that are cute and well built. I have a bruise caused by my shoes, under my big toenail, you know the one toenail that you can't just cut off and be done with it.

My feet are especially angry after about an hour of numbness at the gym. They think that tennis shoes that fit my foot structure might be better than ones that my feet fit into and were on clearance at Ross. And though my feet know how I've been working this past year they've somehow neglected to consider the financial impact of all the work and all the bad shoes.

I wonder if I could find a podiatrist?

 Don't be silly feet, I'm too cheap to pay to see a doctor!

Gym Talk

Yesterday, being that it was a day of the week, I spent a bit of time at the gym. And seeing as I have become a major space cadet I left my iPod attached to my mother's computer pretending to charge.  The music was barely toreralbe so I took to listening to people's conversations when I couldn't stay focused on the Sex in the City marathon happening on the cardio equipment tubes.

Now this is not a funny story I'm about to tell you. Funny would be nice and all but eavesdropping on the after-work-workouters is an eye opening.

I was on a bike wondering if my feet would ever regain feeling when I over heard a couple. Their converstaion went like this:

Woman: Olga (names have been changed to protect the individuals privacy and I cannot remember said names) was like "We're having a baby boy!" and she put the ultrasound picture on facebook.

Man: I did that with my colonoscopy. I was like look at my polyp, isn't it cute?

Woman: And my ex commented. Did you see?

Man: Your friends have an opinion on how I feel about you.

Woman: You should see, he commented on Olga's baby picture. Fucking bastard.

So this couple, who I've seen several times, and are in fact a couple, are in what I estimate to be in their mid to late forties. The woman is German. The man America. Both of them childless. Both of them bitter.

Last time I checked sono pics of the unborn spawn are an appropriate (for this day and age) way to share your excitement over the developing fetus with family, friends and who ever else happens to be your friend on facebook.

Comparing a sono of a baby to a scope taken through the behind of a middle aged man is inappropriate. First of all, I'm within ear shot. Second of all, sorry about your impending bum cancer but it isn't helping your stressed and depressed girlfriends biological clock so shut it the fuck down and take it home where she can be a crazed menopausal lady wanting babies without you comparing this need to having your tush scoped.

I have a bit of social anxiety. Mostly I don't like people I don't know being overly sharey with their biological issues (I also don't like people talking to me when I am in some state of undress so when I'm changing as discreetly as possible in the locker room do not make eye contact with me or try to start a converstaion.) There is a time and a place to have your middle aged (and/or quarter life) melt downs, the gym at its busiest point is not one of those times.

I got off the bike before I could feel my feet. I was a bit put off by how unguarded these people were. Everyone else I eavesdropped on was normalish, you know the "how's Bob, you guys should have dinner with us some time soon!" A bit of cheery chatter and the hilarious "slut" after the enthusiastic inviter walks away. There was tons of man talk. I don't always understand what gyms do to men because I can't understand most of what they say while working out. There were the workout buddies chatting mindlessly so they didn't have to pay attention to what they were actually doing, because some days running on a treadmill in public hurts enough, you don't need to focus on it.

So what I'm getting at is... don't say too much in public places. The gym is not your living room. There are no sound barriers that keep me and everyone else from hearing you.

I Saw That!

So I was at the gym today, not particularly interesting in itself, but from the StairMaster I saw everything. And seeing as it was the middle of the day there wasn't much to see but then poof something interesting happened. A man checked out the person in front of me.

But Wait!!

The person in front of me was a maintenance man fixing an out of order cardio machine, he wasn't a fit man, which is his prerogative and I have no room to judge but the man who checked out this maintenance man was "that guy."

My sister suggested that the uber fit guy was just looking at the fat man because he was a fat man in a gym but she wasn't there, she didn't see him slow and do the up down thing. He did the up down thing to the bent over dude. Twice.

I know you think I'm going to something about the gays, but I'm not, I don't care if "that guy" is a chubby chasing gay. I just love the whole darn thing. It was cute and silly and, well, I had been on the stairs for nearly a half hour and Sex in the City was not keeping me distracted enough. So maybe it wasn't as exciting as I think but it was still good times.