As if finally fitting into my littlest jeans weren’t reward enough, I’ve once again enjoyed an unbridled freak show at the gym. Next to me on a treadmill was a wildly unattractive, middle-aged gentleman sporting a dingy tank top. It appeared he’d taken bright green electrical tape and created a message across his sweat-stained chest. It took me a second to be able to read it, and when I finally made it all out, I was appalled, disgusted and slightly amused.
“If it swells, ride it.”
Buying a shirt, much less a tank top, proclaiming this offensive phrase is one thing. But creating it from a $2 wife beater and some green tape is entirely another.
Kudos on grossing me out, Treadmill neighbor. Try not to trip on your biting wit…
As I was also working out next to the smallest, skinniest woman alive, thus making me feel huge, fat and Amazonian, I decided to dramatically up my incline. This athletic move proved too much for my Vanity Fair and it went flying down to my feet. Leaping over it, I watched my huge magazine ride along the treadmill and land in the middle of the walkway. Another frighteningly toned woman stood right there, looked at me with disgust, rolled her eyes, picked it up and attempted to hand it to me. Because I still didn’t feel stupid enough, thousands of subscription flyers dropped from the magazine, littering the gym and further annoying size 0.
I’m well aware that it’s challenging to be charming at 6:30 in the morning, but her angered and purposefully slow handing over of the magazine, while I essentially climbed Everest was unwarranted. It was all I could do not to hit pause, turn around and say, “Hey, lady. If it swells, ride it…”