"I don't really like social events at the gym. Especially yours", I pout back. Her gym is where all the girls who look like her go. Here she is.
 |
| I just made you decide not to eat lunch, right? |
I prefer gyms where I am the best looking and fittest one there. Since those gyms don't exist, I instead choose my couch and chocolate eggo waffles.
"Dude. You're wearing me out. Your best friend's a goddamn trainer and a damn good one. Take advantage of it. You're not getting younger."
I'm 28 and that one stung like one of the many times I've been attacked by a satan wasp.
"Come in when you get off work. Pay $50 and you get 3 sessions with me. Just me and you. In the "girl" part of the damn gym."
It goes to show how horrible I am at gym-going that I didn't even know the room was divided by your type of genitals.
I decide to go up there and sign up because Greer really is an awesome trainer and I can't afford her normal fees.
There are no parking spots at the gym at 5:15 because everybody wants to have a nice body and everybody wants to do it right after they get off work. I manage to park in a spot that says "NO GYM PARKING" and smile sweetly at the men's clothing store owner who is scowling at us when we walk by. I figured I was safe and there was no way he would think I was going to the gym. I am, after all, a size 10 and wearing a skirt suit with a bouffant.
I couldn't help but notice that at least two people with high and tight asses walked past me condescendingly in the parking lot to make sure they knew they were faster parking-lot walkers and in better shape. I wanted to scream at them "I KNOW YOU ARE!", but I knew that would be more than slightly crazy. I instead took Kendal's advice and made sure I locked my beautiful car 12 times and smiled to nobody....because they may have glutes o steel...but I got a Benz and white teeth. So suck on that.
Greer finds me and takes my credit card to go sign me up. She kind of showed me around but the place was so insane and full of hotties that I just wanted to go to Bass Pro Shop and get some self-esteem back.
She then walks me over to a table where I have to sign up a time slot.
Mary: What's this? What am I signing up for now?
Greer: This is just your time to come in and let me take your weights, measurements, and pictures.
Mary: eh. all right.
Up walks 6"3 man of large biceps and name tag with impressive title.
Greer: Hey. Mary just signed up. Will you get her a t-shirt?
Biceps: Has she taken her pictures yet?
Greer; Nooooo, she just came to sign up after work, she's my best friend. She's going to wear her bikini on Friday....betcha wish YOU got to take the pictures, huh?
(.....uh.....bikini? Hot young boy taking pictures of me in said bikini.... what the fuck is happening to me....)
Biceps: She's kidding. Only she will see the pictures if you want.
Greer: SHUT UP! Look at her she's freaking hot!
Biceps: Well....we're not supposed to give the shirts until you take the pictures.
Mary: That's all right, I don't -
Greer: She's coming on Friday, go get her a shirt!
That's when I noticed what Greer had signed me up for. It was a wall o hotness. A wall of pictures of girls in bikinis entering a nationwide competition for who could have the tightest ass, or something along those lines.
Greer is going to die.
Since hot boss biceps is still standing there, I got out.
Texts to Greer later:
Mary: You know there's no way in satan's playground I'm taking pictures in a bikini
Greer (text): I can understand for sure. You can just wear spandex shorts and a sports bra.
Mary (text): Yeah, that's a ton better. How about sweatpants and a tank top?
Greer (text): Yes.
Greer (text): You'll just have to lift up your tank top and take off your pants for the picture.
Greer doesn't get it.
