If you’re like some people, the thought of going to the gym causes physical discomfort and makes you want to vomit. I’ll be honest, the only reasons I decided to go are because: 1) I’m sick of my rolls of fat, 2) I have zero desire to show myself on facebook in a bikini. Which is exactly what will happen if I don’t lose 10 more pounds by the end of October. Trust me, no one wants to see my fat thighs in a bikini.
This afternoon Boom Boom and I both found ourselves sweating our asses off after a week of indulging in too many carbs and too many beers. You know what we realized? We are 12 years old. Seriously, we’re fucking 12. I realized this when she was walking the track and I was sitting on the recumbent bike and then, my secret man meat boyfriend walked it.
She was walking behind him and she saw him, she looked across the gym at me and we both laughed and laughed. Why? Because we are stupid.
I will say that the good thing about seeing him is that he keeps me on the elliptical for another 15 minutes. He is so hot. Sure I look like a stalker when I crane my neck to stare at him lifting, but last time I checked, 12 year old stalkers aren’t subtle.