I've gotta workout or find a good cover up so that I don't offend this guy when I tell him no and to get out of my light.
Some of you may be wondering, "What's with the incessant workouts, Les?" Well, let me tell ya. First of all, when the kids started school this year, I thought I'd have all this time on my hands, but suddenly lost time for the gym. I don't know how that happened. I'm still trying to figure it out. So, when the junk in the trunk started to look more like a hoarder south of the border, the border being my waist line, I figured I needed to get back to the gym.
It was so long since I'd been to the gym, that I'd forgotten my lock combination. I had to try several combos before I figured it out, and then I had to write it on my hand or my water cup before I locked it and went to work out. That's pretty bad.
Even worse was the joy in the eyes of all the regulars that I was back! You see, there's a new gym in town. Let's just say they are fancier. I get the sneaking suspicion that it's a like the Jags now...it's got the Jaguar hood ornament, but it's pretty much a Ford Taurus. My gym is fancy for me, but there have been SOME people have been lured to the dark side, the OTHER gym. Personally, I find this competition refreshing because it's weeded out some real gems, shall we say. Apparently, I'd been gone so long, people thought I'd left for good. They couldn't be so lucky.
"Oh good, you're here!" It was a surprising welcome. I figured I'd swooped in under the radar, and gone fairly unnoticed. But apparently, my six foot bombshell of a pear-shaped frame had made an impression in the exercise mats as well as the people there. I didn't know I was known, let alone missed so much. Hopefully, there'll never be a greeting like, "Oh you're here. Again. Dammit."
Nothing gets me back in the gym faster than scheduling a trip to Mexico. Ricardo and I just decided one day that we were long overdue for a trip. Or what I call a necessary 4-day date. And so, by the powers that be, we found a great deal, coordinated with school, vacation, my work, Ricardo's vacation time, Gramma coming in to take care of the kids -- God bless her soul, all that and we booked our trip. And then I realized that it would probably be weird to wear full length pants and a long-sleeved shirt at the swim-up bar in the pool. I'd have to get my suit on. Uh. Oh.
I got the brilliant idea of board shorts. I can cover the cottage cheese and dimple ripple all the way to my knees with board shorts. This is great! So, I surf (get it, surf - and we're talking about board shorts) the web for board shorts. In my quest, I discover that board shorts for women only go up to size 12. Size 12 for me is skinny, and I'm not there yet. I need a size bigger. So, I ask you, don't you think that board shorts should not be for skinny people, but accessible to those of us who are trying so hard to help other tourists out so that they don't have to be blinded or horrified by the lumpy jello-jiggle of which my thighs provide? Help me help you is all I'm sayin. Geez. My only comfort is the American motto for trips to Mexico, "Anything goes." I guess that includes my thunder thighs.
Until then, I suppose I'll have to get to the gym so I can continue to remember my lock combination, greet the people and make my appearance (it's good to be loved) and smooth the dimples out. It's so hard to be me.
That's how I roll.
