It’s no secret I like desserts. But I don’t want those desserts to catch up with me. So I’ve been doing yoga, and then just recently started running.
Don’t get too excited. I don’t run outside. When I run, I cheat. I run inside on the treadmill where it’s easier and air conditioned. Lord knows you won’t see me running outside in our Alabama heat.
Considering I’m still just a poor college kid, owning my own treadmill is out of the question. That leaves me stuck using the greasy community treadmill at my apartment’s gym. Yuck! As an added bonus, (unlike some of my fellow gym ladies) I have to be careful about what I choose to wear to workout in. I want to be comfy, but I don’t need the twins to come popping out. This means a pair of yoga pants and a well fitting sports top. And then there's the fun of trying to get rid of my panty line in those yoga pants. Which is a complete waste of time because no matter what kind of underwear I changed into, I always seem to have a panty line when I wear yoga pants. It’s a curse.
But like I said earlier, I like dessert.
So earlier today, I’m in my zone jamming out to my music, running along just trying to burn off a few Oreos while making sure my boobs stay in my sports bra, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look to my right and there stands a guy who looks like he could lay off of the gym for a few days. Without even a simple hello my intruder flatly states, “You have a nice ass.”
Seriously?? My face is extremely red, I have sweat pretty much all over my body, in places no one should ever sweat, my hair is soaking wet and sticking to my face in a very unattractive way. You would think with the way I look people would steer clear of me - but no.
Several things went through my mind in a span of ten seconds, but of course, I could only think of one thing to blurt out.
“What ass?” I asked him as if he were a crazy person. This dude obviously took one too many steroids. Everyone knows I have very little junk in my trunk.
Luckily for me Mr. Muscles just starts laughing as he walks away. Unfortunately that didn’t stop me from being self conscience for the entire rest of my run. Were other people staring at my ass? Could they all see my panty line? Maybe I should just try to be a big girl and run outside for a change?
Why does working out have to be such a spectator sport? Everyone is always worried about everyone looking at them, watching them, and judging them. And they’re worried for a reason...because clearly people are doing just that!
If only I could just give up desserts!
What about you? Do you have any crazy tales from the gym?