I’ve practically moved in to Judy’s, which is fantastic because her perfect house is 10 minutes from my office, as opposed to my ghetto residence 45 minutes away. Judy’s off traveling the country consulting people about things and I get to reap the immense benefits. The only problem is that my gym is also 45 minutes away and I’ve taken to hiking up a horrible hill on the mornings I crash in Sausalito.
I’m relatively spry but this hill is a doozy and usually wipes me out by the time I reach the top, where I sit on a bench next to an abandoned firehouse panting, sweating and moaning in agony. So you can imagine my horror this morning as I neared the top and noticed a police cruiser parked there, and two super foxy cops sitting staring at me. I had a vague idea of just how horrible and terrifying I appeared, having just seen myself in one of those mirrored disks they put on windy roads so you can see if cars are coming. I assure you, I not only looked hideous, but in need of assistance.
So it was no surprise when superfox #1 rolled down his window, “That’s a pretty steep climb.”
Nodding, panting, hands on knees, unable to speak.
I would normally have been delighted to chat with two super foxy men in uniform for 2 reasons:
1. How Spots met her husband, and
2. You never know when you’re gonna need a friend on the force.
However, all I wanted to do was sit on that damn bench 10 feet away and collapse, hoping my heart wouldn’t explode out of my chest and dent the cruiser.
I smiled, exhaled “Seriously” and made my way to the bench.
No sooner had I managed to bend my aching knees enough to actually sit, than 2 middle aged Oprah watchers in mom-jeans appeared at the top, entirely unfazed by their ascent.
As if they were strolling through Talbots, they meandered right past me, smiling and laughing and appearing slightly frightened by the cops but otherwise, highly unaffected by their climb.
I attempted to convince myself that mom-jeans probably came down a side street near the top and in no way scaled the mountain from the depths I just had, but this did little for my once again deflated self-confidence. I bowed by head, shoved my hands in my pockets and began my trek back down, refusing to acknowledge the superfox fuzz, promising to dramatically up my incline at the gym and reassuring myself that while I might have been caught horribly and hideously winded, at least I wasn’t caught in reverse fit denim...