Monday, August 18, 2008

Sweating with the oldies

Men just don't understand why sometimes it's okay to hate.

With a renewed sense of determination to battle the bulge (for the 4 billionth time in my life) I went for a walk this morning. It's supposed to be sticky hot today with storms in the afternoon, so I thought an early morning jaunt would be prudent.

I choose a pair of knee-length yoga pants and a baseball style top I haven't worn in a few years that's easily two sizes too big now. Which sounds good and all, but I myself am still way more than too sizes too big. And bigger than I was just a few months ago when I gave up on Weight Watchers and began the summer of comfort food. And inactivity.

But I digress...

I covered my bedhead with one of my Beloved's Baseball hats, put on a pair of sunglasses and headed out.

I should comment on the hat. I have a giant head. Sometimes My Beloved jokes that I could capture my own moon. He's sooooooo funny like that.

Hats rarely fit me. Baseball hats are the worst. They perch awkwardly on my head unless I squeeze them down into place. This leaves me lightheaded. And, worse than that, it's totally obvious that I've squeezed my humongous melon inside with absolutely no room to spare. Flapping ears, and all that.

Today I didn't care. My new haircut made the hat look slightly less ridiculous on me and, if the Superman comics are to be believed, the glasses completely disguised me.

I confidently strode down to the pond near our house, feeling empowered and motivated. There's a path around the pond that's about a half a kilometer in length, and I figured that early in the morning I'd likely have it all to myself.

I decided to do three laps before heading home.

Almost halfway through my last lap I spotted her. A runner. She burst onto the track across the pond in a little racing bra and short shorts.

I had wanted the solitude, but was admittedly a little grateful to see another person on the track. There are some isolated bits that make me a little nervous. There's a lot of paranoia in my gigantic head.

I continued to walk, undaunted by the runner.

Until she passed me.

She looked different close up. Better. Tiny. Perfect.

She was roughly the size of my left leg and every inch of her was evenly tanned (I could tell because there was just so very much skin to see). The word "FLIRT" was printed across her firm, peach-shaped butt and her long, silky ponytail swished with every step she took.

The "phhhst phhst phhhst phhst" of those steps was in stark contrast to the lumbering "thwunk thwunk thwunk thwunk" of my own (which, until she passed, had been music to my ears).

I took stock of the figure I cut plodding along the track. Too big shirt. Ruthlessly unforgiving yoga pants. Giant head mashed into a baseball cap. Tomato red face dripping with sweat. Hair frizzed up and poking out from under the cap like a 1970s baseball player.

And yeah, I hated her a bit.

I realize this is unfair. It would make much more sense to hate myself instead (although there's certainly some of that at play here. Clearly), but I chose to loathe her instead. Her and her flirty butt and itty bitty little waist flitting around the track like a wispy, perfect little butterfly.

My Beloved laughed when I told him my sweaty tale of woe, and asked why I would think to hate the perfect little jogger.

Men.

7 comments:

Michelle said...

You should have tripped her!

Scrappy_Lady said...

LOL at tripping her!!

From your description, I surely would have hated her, too. Not her personally, of course. ;)

Heather said...

I hate her too. I had a version of her on my walk the other weekend. Normally I go at sunrise so there aren't many people. It was raining that Sunday so I slept in and went later in the day. She had on the sports bra/teeny tiny shorts combo. Long, blond ponytail. And she ran, while I waddled.

To top it off, her dog was not on a leash. Which is the law here. Even though her dog behaved splendidly while mine (on a leash) proceeded to bark and show her ass - making me look like a horrible dog owner compared to her.

It was all I could do not to trip her.

cjzben said...

Oh I hate her too and I didn't even see her.

Lets imagine that she is stupid and really has no sense of humor at all shall we :)

Molly said...

I cannot for the life of me relate to people who look like that. I think I don't usually hate them because they are like a whole different species.

Frozen Star said...

I hate her too. I'm petty like that.

Click

Aurelia said...

I try not to hate them but sometimes I just can't help it. Like the least they could do is wear something unattractive you know?