Page 55 - Fall 2013 Issue
P. 55

 Running Confuses Me
While I am talking about conformity, have you ever wondered what some women are thinking when they leave the house, for exercise? I have seen some crimes against the female form that baffle me. For instance, what are women who jog thinking, when they will not invest in underwear that keeps their members from springing out, up & over to pat themselves on the back? I really want to ask them, “Don’t you think all the jostling will result in a malformaDon, at the least, or a concussion at the worst?” I would have asked the few that I saw, if I ever could have caught up with them. At that same 5K, I saw a woman who showed more cleavage than the average pin-up calendar. She made a good Dme, too.
But, if she is honest with herself, she has to a8ribute her success to her, um, companions. A_er all, Newton’s very first law states that a body in moDon stays in moDon. When I saw her, I mean them crossing the finish line, I envisioned her at the starDng line, possibly pulsing her thorax back and forth, as a yo-yo, to gain inerDa. Her breast gave her a tow. Purely, speculaDon – I could be wrong. But, I doubt it. Seriously!
Another thing I think about is hygienic protocol. Who are the women who shower before working out? Who are you and, more importantly, WHY? Why would you waste your smell goods? Frankly, if you smell April-fresh, a.er you have worked out, well, you’re just not doing it right. If the objecDve is to work up a sweat, funk comes with all of that. Just as with good music, in exercise, there is pride in the funk. Furthermore, ecologically, how is taking a shower before you work out green? I hope you’re not likely to forgo a shower post- workout, if you shower pre-workout. Are you? This is a ma8er for the EPA. I mean, who are you to thwart the very noble efforts of the EPA? I want to know who you are. And, I want to know Why. But, most importantly, I want to apologize. I am sorry, deeply sorry, to those of you who are unlucky enough to get caught in my post-workout wake. I know it can’t be pleasant in and of itself. You get up early, apply deodorant, talcum powder, maybe even do your hair & to encounter me – Me, who in one whiff can damn to heck
all your feminine wiles. In just one involuntary whiff, you wilt like a cartoon flower. My olfactory offense, in one whiff, neutralizes, nay, negates your deodorant, your powder, and likely your coif. I imagine us accidentally touching and your carefully placed falsies giving up the ghost and peeling away from your lids, forming sad li8le commas on your cheekbones. I hear that this will pass-that as I conDnue to work out, the efforts will push toxins out of my pores, and eventually, I will cease to get funky. *insert sarcasDc emoDcon*
Not geeng funky, during a workout, is a lie.Iknowitis.Iknewitwasevenasthe messenger was giving the message. I did not pull her onto the carpet, because right on the heels of that lie came a doozy- a doozy even doozier than the funk one. Ready? My running buddy, the 5K chick, seeing my face in a prolonged grimace that usually indicated severe discomfort, bordering on paralysis said ... the burning in the calves would become a feeling ... that I would crave. I was offended unto violence. I was offended to the point that I wanted to sock her in her mouth. I literally wanted to pummel her with a sweaty sneaker. I think I would have, too, if I had the strength. Recall, I was in agony, when she chose to violently assault my intelligence with blatant falsehoods. Why didn’t I hit her? Well, it was not because I thought violence was wrong. In some instances, only violence sufficiently can answer an affront. I did not care that she was a full head shorter than me & that it would be perceived as an uneven match. Nor did I have any scruples over ruining a great friendship. I cared that I would be unable to make my case, a_er exerDng the last bit of my precious strength and breath. By my self- assessment, if I had enough breath, a_er beaDng her, to make my case, the authoriDes would see my side, I’m sure – I mean who takes advantage of someone in distress? Someone in need of a beaDng that’s who! Oh boy, if I knew that I could give her what-for, oh buddy. She does not know how close she came. What is it about any real physical exerDon that makes you forget you love someone? Then, there also was the possibility that she could win the contest, being in be8er
physical shape than me. Being shorter than me, I bet if she answered me with a punched to the gut, pardon me, Tummy, I bet my “Tummy” would hurt on purpose, just to spite me. Yeah, that could be the real reason. Which is it? I am pre8y sure it is the former.
Further vexing is make-up. What is with the full face of make-up? Again, Why? Is your make-up so cheap or plenDful that having it converge into your clavicle not of real concern? Or, how can you work out and not give in to the very real urge to wipe sweat from your brow? “Work out pre8y” baffles me just as much as “sleep pre8y” (geeng a hairstyle that condemns you to sleeping upright for weeks at a Dme, solely for style preservaDon). If I am going to go to the effort of working out, make-up is the last thing on my mind. First of all, it has been decades since I have worn face powder/ foundaDon. However, if I did wear make- up, what with all the grimacing, pursed and dehydrated lips, there is not a scinDlla of doubt that I would look like The Joker, on a bad day. And, let’s not even imagine the verDcal contribuDons that my mascara would make to this masterpiece. I more so would look like a deranged carny. I can accomplish this without wasDng make-up, thank you very much. Frankly, don’t you feel silly either returning home with perfect make-up or, having it coalesce in the dimple in your neck? Really, is it just me? AddiDonally, I am concerned that if I fall out, the EMT will be peeved if I get makeup all over her nice smelling uniform. With my luck, I will be her first emergency of the day, a_er she has go8en up early, showered, put on her facial regalia, sprayed her smell goods and done her work out. Then, she has to a8end to what must be some smelly derelict. Sure she will forgive the perfunctory spi8le and aggression. It’s the funk and clown make-up that may conflict with her own goal of doing her best for herself, that may discourage her from doing her very best for me. The funk and clown make-up will advise her to walk very saunter back to the ambulance, in search of reinforced latex gloves and tongs. I am sure of this.
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