Monday, April 14, 2008

I guess some things never change.

Sometimes I feel like I'm still an awkward teenager stuck in high school: completely insecure with who I am and mostly what I look like. I feel like I will never be able to be friends with the pretty-girls and that they're all (as if all attractive females are in a club) hating my guts and thinking of ways to embarrass me. I recognize this is a completely ridiculous thought, and I recognize that I actually am friends with a lot of pretty girls, I even recognize that nobody really wants to waste their time thinking of ways to mike my life difficult, but I am still completely intimidated by those I don't know.

Today I went over to the clubhouse to exercise at my regular time. I finally found a time that there are very rarely people there, and that makes me like it better. 9:00 has officially become my "working out" time and I know the other people who go at that time, and they are nice (and pretty - which dis-proves my point).

After biking for 4 miles, the elliptical machine became available (somehow Jazz games being on always attract men to come in). Any other night there are no men in the clubhouse, but when a Jazz game is on, they all "work out" during the entire game. And by "work out" I mean sit on the weight machines and take turns walking on the elliptical while yelling at the players/coach/refs to "pass it pass it! Come on! Awwww!" and asking each other questions that nobody answers because those who should be listening are busy yelling the previous phrases. Shouts of "can you believe that? are you kidding me? when are they going to give up?" make it impossible for me to focus on reading, and force me to waste my time watching a Jazz game. After the game, they linger to watch the "post game commentary" while standing on the work out machines, and sitting on the chairs (read: weight machines). After they leave, I change the channel, and start watching a little Law and Order, when in walks the pretty girl of the day.

I probably weigh twice as much as she does, and at this point, I've been biking/walking for about 30 minutes, so I'm not pretty. When I went through my step aerobics phase, I decided that it was OK that the people on the video looked good while working out because I knew it was only because they would break for makeup and hair every 2 minutes, which is approximately how long it takes for me to go from looking like I just got home from work, to looking like I've been running from a serial killer for 26.2 miles. I don't think I've ever met anyone who looks exactly as pretty when they run as they do when they are normal.

She's wearing Bermuda shorts - I'm wearing Josh's old basketball shorts. She's wearing a CUTE fitted pocketed sweater, I'm wearing a shirt that says "Hershey's. You never forget your first love." She's wearing tiny white cheerleading/ballet slipper shoes. I'm wearing running shoes I got from Big 5. She has fresh makeup on - I've never understood how prettygirls ALWAYS look like they JUST finished applying makeup. And her hair is pulled up in a fashionable cute pony tail tucked neatly under her hat. Yes, that's right, she's wearing a really cute newsie's hat. And it looks really good on her. While she runs she lands gently on the treadmill on the balls of her feet. Somehow I manage to thump on the elliptical (I still haven't figured out how exactly how one can thump on a machine that only makes rounded smooth movements). My hair pulled back in a ponytail is frizzy and falling out. My face is red and yes, I'm sweating. I realize you're not supposed to admit to such disgusting acts, but I sweat when I run. I can't help it, and I hear it's good for you, so deal with it.

As she runs her cheeks never even flush, not even a little bit. Her hair doesn't fall out, and somehow her hat doesn't even move from it's perfect place on the top of her head. I swear it must have been super glued to her head. She didn't even breath hard, meanwhile my heart rate is literally 190 and I'm about to die. Needless to say I left as soon as I could justify it.

In her defense, she's probably a very nice girl, and in reality she did nothing to make me feel uncomfortable, but the second she walked in, I felt like a big icky blob of socially unacceptable human-ness. I thought after you grew up all of that insecurity magically disappeared, but apparently, some things never change.

1 comment:

  1. Okay, first of all, I don't know what kind of a person exercises in a newsie's hat and ballet slipper type shoes. I bet her feet were KILLING her when she was done and your's were still nice and comfy. And she was probably DYING wearing a fitted sweater and trying with all her might not to breathe hard and sweat to death and was jealous of your comfortable outfit. :)


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