Exercise Enlightenment

I love my 30's! So much wisdom is found in these years that so stealthily (is that a word?) crept up on me. There is so much knowledge amassing here that I will be able to take my 40's off from acquiring knowledge to simply wallow in my elderly status.

One such awakening occurred last night at the gym. You've all seen this chickie at the gym, right? I'm sure her name is probably Mindy or Holly or something irritatingly sweet.

We hate her, right? Stupid girl, with her tight buns and her effulgent perkiness! Ya, she's a real bitch! And there I am on the elliptical with my non-tight buns and perkless presence huffing and puffing away. It was in the throes of this agony at mile marker 1.33 and heart rate 148 that it dawned on me: I should be thanking this girl we all hate. As long as she is prancing around in her tight little suit, with her perfect assets drawing the attention of everyone else in the gym, nobody is gazing in horror at the sight of me fighting the battle of the bulge.

It's bad enough having to go to the gym and exert actual effort, but the added terror of people staring and ridiculing the fat chick makes it all the more unappealing. But thanks to fitness gal, the only thing I have to worry about is becoming exhausted and falling flat on my face on the treadmill. Now that would be a sight I wouldn't blame people for watching.