Figure 1. "Hey Fred" - "Ya George" - "Does my ass look big in this?"
There ain’t NO thinspiration like being at din-dins with yr best friend and him saying - as u sheepishly mention u’ve only been to gym twice in the last 8 weeks – that u are a fat, unhealthy slob. BAM. Suddenly that super-stacked carpacio sandwich and chips doesn’t look so tasty... Maybe u should gnaw on the paper napkin instead…. It has fewer calories. If comments like that don’t get your ass to gym, then nothing will fatty! You’re a lost cause…
Splattered in between this conversation about gyming were his accusations of my raging manorexia (yet I’m still unhealthy and slobbish – and he implied fat even though he didn’t actually say it… if I over-analyse what he said and breakdown each word and emphasis to interpret the sentence I get “FAT”…), in-depth discussions with the girls at the table about how to give excellent head and the particularly good use of the larger taste buds at the back-of-the-tongue to increase stimulation and orgasmic enjoyment, and further discussions on what one thinks about during sex [apparently I’m not the only one who thinks about grocery shopping, re-arranging my room/bedside table, focusing on not puking on him, trying to count how many stroh rum have landed me in this coyote-ugly-bad-life-decision situation] and then (of course) how hott the waiter is and how to get his number… You know, just general banter over half-portions of salad and water-lite with lemon and a straw.
So the Monday morning dawns. And I mean dawns. I even beat the birds to this one.
Following this, I descend down the stairs into the pit of beefcakedom (occasional spamoni). Daintly I climb onto my machines and with brit-brit pumpin full volume out my ipod with songs like ‘I love rock-n-roll’, ‘Womanizer’, ‘If u seek amy’ and of course ‘Piece of me’ I lift rather minor (compared to the beefcakes) amounts of iron. To me they’re pretty substantial. They of course are kitted out in some of the most hideous outfits known to mankind. Mostly in wife beater vests that are two sizes too small and only accentuate their steroid enhanced chests and nipples just bursting to escape into the gym auditorium! And then there are the real winners. The real ones who stepped out of their trailer where their mother is their sister’s aunties’ brother’s cousin twice removed. Donned in Ed Hardy from top to toe and undoubtedly wearing a cap. Usually on sideways or backwards – coz we’re born in the 90s. the 90s!
I must say, it is rather fascinating watching these large specimens of alpha male sweat and grunt and exude manliness all over the place. I constantly get flustered, giggle stupidly, blush, flash unwitting smiles at some and once or twice get busted staring and drooling… When the hott ones gym, my heavens above. My ovaries practically crawl out of my body and rape them. Right there and then – on the pectoral machine. Good god. Calm yourself. I once dropped some weights coz one smiled at me as he walked past. Went bright red. Giggled like a twelve year old. And dropped my weights. Hott – rite there! Not. Epic fail. Pity he was straight. His smile was more along the lines of why-are-u-staring-at-me-in-that-creepy-i-want-to-rape u manner!? God he was hott.
Ooo, and let’s not mention the homo-eroticness of the constant touching. Orgasmic grunting. Man-hugging. and general touchy-feely but in-a-manly-way that happens at gym. Sometimes I go purely for amusement purposes… still haven’t found my husband there L
Anyways, back to gyming my fat, cellulitey ass. Am I ever on a mission to get thin again. Well, toned rather than thin… apparently my BMI is in the anno range. So no more thin-ness. Just toned msucledness… and hopefully I get hit on at gym…
PS: Think of where all that food over xmas is going… to your KA-TONK ka-tonk so u’ll get some ja-honk ja-honk in yr ta-ronk ta-ronk! Back that thing up!
BAM!
PPS: if this makes any sense I’ll be rather surprised… I’m sitting alone in the office with the aircon on full and bored stiff… ENJOY! J
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