Pieces of Meat

So, despite all of my foot stomping, tantrum throwing, and grousing about roommates.com, I did end up finding the perfect place. It is five minutes from a major highway, five minutes from a major shopping area, five minutes from a really nice gym... and... yes... I did just use the words "nice" and "gym" in the same sentence.

Some people fear dentists. Speaking in public. Clowns. Punk ass middle schoolers. Me? I am apparently afraid of good looking people on treadmills.

Once, my best friend dragged me to the gym to deal with her peach melba (...don't ask) and I agreed to go with her. It was only a small university gym, and she promised it wouldn't be terrible. After all, I was going with her. And everything with her is fun. Big fun. So much fun, in fact, that it should require a permission slip signed by a half-drunken guardian who has no clue what sort of shenanigans will ensue.

So, I went. Borrowed some clothing. Sat on the bike. Pedaled like a starving mountain lion was gallumphing behind me. Tried to fit in. But, in the end, still felt like a total moron. No, I didn't fall off the bike. I didn't slide off the end of a treadmill and smack my gluteus maximus into a wall. I didn't even almost choke myself to death on the bench-pressing rod thingie. (See? Look at me bust out my knowledge...of weight terminology.... sob...)

Anyhow.
I felt like a moron because despite the fact that I was wearing some old t-shirt, my hair in a ponytail and a pair of sweatpants....I was desperately trying to hide the fact that I was also wearing a pair of shiny, black dress shoes.

Oh my god, do you see that girl? Not only does she have no idea how to use an elliptical machine a chimp could figure out, but she has no biceps! And...wait. No, it can't be. Get a load of what she's WEARING!!! Guffaws, tales told at frat parties, cries of "no way!". Let's all toss our heads back and laugh! Aha! Oh, man. Good story, Julie.

Who's insecure? Not me. Nope.

So yes, to reiterate, gyms are scary places. Too many good looking people who don't actually need to be there. Too many people that could be looking at how lame I am. Too many veiny meat heads. Too many girls who were never awkward, ugly adolescents... or so I imagine.

Its an alien landscape. That I have decided to completely rule. Because life is too short to be afraid of stupid things. Right? Right. But, I am a glutton for punishment, thus I will put myself through feeling idiotic for a few weeks...and then, hopefully I can walk around like I own the place. Swagger in my step, a little z-snap here and there.

One day, I will be so comfortable, that instead of walking in, I can interpretive dance in. Kick-box in. Skip in, saying hi to every person, and then? Then, we will all burst into song, machines clinking and clanking in rhythm, footsteps pounding in tandem, voices high and strong! It will be Dancer in the Dark meets Lion King. It will be beautiful. Victorious. And we won't even break out in a sweat.

And THEN, icing on this particularly scrumptious cupcake, I can be one of those obnoxious girls that wears too-short miniskirts and prances around with no thighs and makes everyone want to develop eating disorders. Or throw hamburgers at her. Won't that be fun? Course, if you throw a burger at me, I'll just be thrilled. I like burgers. That's one thing that's never changing.

In fact, if I ever tell you I'm giving up red meat, I personally give each and every one of you permission to slap me senseless with a big ol' slab of beef. I may be evolving, but some things will always ring true. I will always have a dentist as a father, I will always enjoy giving presentations to crowds. I will always be amused by punkass middle schoolers. And I will always salivate over a nice piece of meat.





* I'm just gonna let you take that as you wish.