Sunday, September 2, 2012

The Alien at My Gym

One thing I love about the time of day I go to my gym is that it is primarily full of other stay-at-home moms or dads, and a few sprinklings of the senior citizen sort. You don't generally see the women scantily clad with flawless make up and hair due to emptying a can of hair spray prior to stepping onto a stairmaster, or the guys who survey the room for said hair-sprayed woman.

Honestly, when someone actually walks in that doesn't look like they had to peel their preschooler off their leg or is following doctor's orders to build some bone mass to ward off osteoporosis, they stick out like a sore thumb.

That's why I have a real issue with a certain someone now invading my work out time.

I don't know where she came from. I don't know if she ever eats (pretty sure she doesn't). And if I'm being brutally honest, I wouldn't mind knowing the name of her surgeon.

Frankly, her body is flawless. Abs of steel. Cut arms. Firm derriere. Thin, toned legs. And of course, the, um, well, you know.

Now I don't have any real issue with her looking that good other than the fact that I'm just incredibly jealous, but naturally I'm telling myself she likely has not given birth so we're not on even playing ground anyway.

My real issue is that she shows up out of no where.

Now had she been coming to the gym for years and started out as a pudgy gal and worked her tail off to get in the kind of shape she's in, I would be cheering her on and obviously inspired.

But no.

She just shows up one day this summer and looks amazing.

I NEED some before and after pictures, sweetie.

No one should just appear out of thin air looking like that. We want to see the blood, sweat and tears it took to get that way.

Otherwise it just appears completely unattainable. Like she was plopped down to earth just to taunt the rest of us with our jiggly tummies and cellulite-dotted thighs.

I meet women at the gym all the time that are working really hard to stay in shape, have more energy to keep up with their kids, and hopefully look at least "pretty good" in that new top they just bought.

If you're going to crash our workout party looking like a spandex model, have the common courtesy to give a little back story. Tell us you used to weigh more than your car, but then you hit the gym and watched the fat disappear.

Something to give us hope.

Something to make us believe that maybe, just maybe, we could at least get close to what you have attained because you're really not that different from us.

Right now I have no reason to believe you are anything more than an alien - sent here to torment us.

Have some mercy and call the mother ship. But do leave the name of that surgeon before you go...

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