4 sell?

God I love this town and all of its simple people...

Watch out Katie Holmes "it's Hammer Time!"

I have recently joined a gym hoping to discover my long lost pre-baby body. I am only certain of the reality of said pre-baby body due to one well-worn pair of microscopic jeans that I refuse to donate to a needy skinny person and a few fuzzy pictures. It’s only been a couple of months but I have not discovered anything save for an insatiable appetite and some much needed time for myself. Running on a treadmill has turned out to be a great spot for pondering. Aside from the typical “I wonder if other people are watching my fat jiggle?” “Why do they sell spandex in an XL?” and “Who farted knowing damn well I have to breathe through my nose with great enthusiasm?” I have a couple of other thoughts I wanted to share.
First of all I must give a “shout out” (isn’t that what the kids are saying these days?) to the best invention since chicken nuggets and vodka, the ipod. I am not sure how other people do it but I am absolutely convinced that my legs will not move without my ipod strapped to my body. I cannot run while watching television, I must have motivating “get sexy” music. Because of this I spend a lot of time on itunes researching “get sexy” music. I have found though that I am in need of a chaperone on these “get sexy” quests because I am easily distracted by nostalgia. I find myself slipping into the early 90’s jams and before I know it I’m clicking “buy.” Now every time M C Hammer’s “Can’t Touch This” comes on I nearly fall off my treadmill laughing. What was I thinking?
Second, my gym is loaded with old people. I really think they must run a bus from the Senior Center over to my gym. These people are not just old, they are near death. I’ve seen some that have to be strapped into the machines because they have lost function of some of their limbs. I’ll be damned if I will be in the gym during my final days on this earth. I have nothing against the elderly in general; I just find it to be pretty dispiriting. How am I supposed to think sexy thoughts and stay motivated when I am faced with my own mortality every morning? It does not make me want to stay on that treadmill. It makes me want to go grab a carton of Virginia Slims and a handle of my favorite vodka and get down to the business of enjoying the rest of my life. They have Curves for women why not a Wrinkles for those over 80?
Last but not least I have a more personal problem that is brought to light while running on treadmills that face mirrors. No matter how warmed up I am my breasts believe they are really, really cold. I do not understand why this happens to me! The first time I saw the girls standing at attention I panicked and started trying to discreetly rub them to make them go away. My friend running next to me happened to look over so I had to make a joke about how I really love running (wink, wink.) Sometimes if I am in a hurry I forget about my little problem and just stuff the girls into a sports bra and go, then I get about a mile into my workout and I realize that one is askew. There’s no way I can shove my hand down my bra to adjust so I just keep running and flash a super-excited-to-see-you smile at everyone that walks by hoping they will be so distracted by my smile they wont notice my crazy nipples. A crazy nipple is way worse than a crazy eye. Do they make a super padded sports bra? Should I strap them down with an Ace bandage? Bandaids? Does anyone else have this problem? Maybe I really do love running…
I have also noticed that getting a little in shape gives me delusions of grandeur as I start thinking (after running 3 miles) maybe I should train for a marathon. At about 3.5 miles I realize what a silly idea that is. I can just picture myself crawling across the finish line of the New York City Marathon covered in my own vomit with one nipple staring to the right and one looking up at me.