Jlogged

Today at the gym, this kid…probably late teens/early 20’s hops on the elliptical next to me wearing what I was sure was a homemade track suit constructed from a few black yard bags. He was covered in sweat, and I was trying not to stare. It occurred to me that he could be mentally ill as he was going so fast he was making me look bad the machine was making weird noises. It was bizarre.

Apparently I need to get out more because it wasn’t a trash bag track suit. No. It was a sauna suit. It’s made of rubber. Non-breathable, hot as the dickens, r-u-b-b-e-r .

I would love to excel my weight loss, but wearing a black rubber suit to do an activity that already pushes me to my limits seems like a fresh new hell. My luck I would die in the darned thing, and some poor chump would have to peel it off of my corps, and they would probably take pictures and put them on the internets for all my loved ones to see. Yup, that or I would run into my arch nemesis from high school on her way to the pool in this seasons hottest bikini looking like she just jumped of the cover of Vogue while I try to pretend I’m not wearing a gigantic trash bag, that my hair isn’t plastered to my head, and you know…it’s cool, like, everyone’s doin’ it.

This is the same reason that I never dressed up for Halloween at work. Bad things always happen to me when I put on ridiculous things and venture out into the public. You sink to a new low when someone’s order gets screwed up and you have to eat crow dressed like Donald Duck, or Magenta from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Sauna Suit. I think I’ll pass. I’ve already tapped out my lifetime public humiliation allowance.

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.