Gym Hazing

A wonderful Christmas story tells of elves making shoes for saintly cobbler. I've always wanted the elves to visit me; mostly I want them to clean my room. What I forget is elves by nature are not kind. Mischievous suits them better. And I believe they visited me after the fairies in the Sugar House gym sent them my way through a curse.

Yes a curse. They threw it my direction when I waved my hand in dismissal to their siren wails of sales. In their eyes I was a sucker and in mine they were sucking away a short amount of time I had to work in a sweat. At the end of the work out the sweat wasn’t enough to wash away my annoyance and I may have snubbed the boys again on my way out. The result was a later regret and a more immediate lateness for my other engagements.

Fast forward to the present. Under similar time constraints I attempted another semi-session at the gym. Running in I my thoughts focused on the quickest way to change.

”OH, she’s back,” a snide voice interrupted.

I looked up and winced. The boys stood behind the counter with arms crossed and smirks on their faces. Friendly greetings must not be discussed in staff meetings.

“Thanks for nothing, what aren’t you going to do today,” another chimed in.

Really boys, get over the rejection.

“It’s always encouraging to come here,” I replied while hastily moving toward the locker room.

The safe haven turned out to be a nightmarish fun house. My gym bag had been tampered with. Never would I have packed spandex, yet no shorts appeared. I pulled on the tight pants and searched fruitlessly for a tank top. With my t-shirt and stretch bottom combination I felt a bit like a 60-year-old woman.

Contemplating the humiliation factor I lost precious minutes talking myself into staying. A few minutes on the bike and goal accomplished, I win. I reached for my shoes. My left foot glided in and something felt wrong. I looked down and noticed that I’d brought my old shoes that effectively suck. Damn. Still I would not leave before I sat on that bike. With defiance I mentally prepared for the bloody heels that would follow.

I put my right shoe on and breathed a sigh of relief. I’d not looked close enough and might need more sleep I thought as I laced up my foot-friendly Asics. I might look a fool but my feet would be safe. I stood with a brief half-smile before I felt the uneven, unbalanced and a distinct difference in shoe. My eyes downcast I saw the ugliness of my old shoe contrasted against the hopeful new shoe. Tricked for the third time I resigned.

I was about to change and leave the gym all together until I looked up and saw a manly woman staring at me. I can’t be sure if it was self pride or pure terror, but I boldly left the locker room and marched to the bikes. After the fifth attempt I found one that worked and with straight shoulders I pushed through the twenty minutes I had left. Maybe the gym fairies won.

A Head Cold

One day of feeling icky and stuffed up wears on you. After two weeks of a rawish throat, spinning head, dry eyes my allergies turned into an almost cold. As in I almost stayed home from work but decided to share my germs. I almost wanted to eat healthy foods to help combat but instead ate things that would undoubtedly taste good. Also when I attempted to make oatmeal it exploded in the microwave, the soup clumped up, the mashed potatoes disintegrated and the chocolate cake cookies resembled muffin tops.

I lived happily through the smoker voice that faded out. The runny nose relieved the congestion. And I coughed up enough crud to give my tortured lungs cardio exercise without going to the gym. Then the headache began.

At first I noticed a faint linger in my forehead after a sharp pang cursed through my nostril. Not so bad except it grew and developed into a full-blown dull ache that lasted and lasted, day and night during sleep and work.

By now I’d found the perfect solution—my fist. Moving at a rapid pace towards various points on my head my fist viciously attacked. For a brief moment I worried about permanent indentation. Luckily I’m a girl and will not be bald so a dented skull doesn’t matter.

I guess Eric disagreed. He showed up with a heavy dose of liquid gel caps, nasal spray, tomato soup, French bread, and season one of 30 Rock. I’m not quite sure what the bread was for. Maybe to offset the drugs. And the comedy of 30 Rock lifted my spirits, almost. Every time I laughed I felt the dull pain of a mucous swollen head.

Narcissistic

A brief conversation with my brother-in-law led to self discovery. Between the life advice, he told me to get married as that is the only way I’ll ever be happy (I guess I just wait for the first person to ask me and say yes, no questions asked), and the begging of my return to Lamar Darren mentioned how wonderful it would be to have two of me. You’ve made the obvious conclusion I did. Not only does he want me married but bearing children.

This particular time his comment referred to the real me living in Lamar closer to his daughter Brookie the newer model of the two-year-old me. Everyone in Lamar remembers me adorably toddling around and they all remark on her likeness of me. The dancing in the kitchen. The jumpiness punctuated by a startled look and scream. The face structure and huge blue eyes. The affection for fruit. Even the way she snuggles into your neck when she hugs you.

While he named of all these wonderful attributes I felt a little tingle in my heart and the smile on my face stretched wide. Then immediate thought I had was my sister deserved to have one of me because I felt she underappreciated me in our youth. My next thought was of my love for Brookie. But my third thought struck a nerve.

What a delightful child I was! No wonder people liked me.

Then I gasped and almost ran a red light. Humility I have not. And while I may not drown in a lake staring at my own reflection, my train of thought could lead to a messy accident.

Most Unlikely Place to be Asked Out

"Pull your pants down."

"Pull your pants down please."

"You need to pull your pants down."

"Do you actually own a skateboard?"

HUH? and yes, a hybrid longboard-skateboard. It's pretty and purple and I fall. A lot. Excuse me while I make sure he pees in the urinal and not all over his shoes.

"Oh I have a skateboard but I only ride streets. We should go sometime. I could teach you. I'm a great teacher."

Silence on my end. He probably didn't notice because there were about 20 other people in the bathroom with us, teachers struggling to control small boys and shrieks from defiant youngsters.

Random time to ask someone to hang out, or not considering the unusual things ways guys have approached me. One guy flagged me down on the freeway to tell me that he'd never seen anyone driving that fast. When he looked over to see who the maniac was it was a hot girl. I wasn't driving that fast, no federal offense.

I had a boy leave a note on my car after I parked next to him. One guy told me he appreciated my pinned skirt. The creepy thing there was I didn't know it was pinned, or that there was a slit. He probably knew the label, exact color and stich used.

And then there were those who didn't even ask for a date. The Jamaican who wrapped his arms around my waist and carried me off. My study date who thought study was code for make-out. I didn't think so and the kiss he gave me in the middle of the library came as a surprise. Didn't even have time to tilt my head. He married one of my friends a year later.

Still the guy in the boy's bathroom wins...for now.

insomnia

Peer pressure on Facebook got to me and in a sleepless fit I listed a mere 25 random things about myself. Damn the Man I'm posting it here instead.

25 Random Things

1. I spent 22 years going to sleep with my feet poking out of the covers. I hate them being covered up.

2. At 22 years of age I spent a summer on the beach—in sweats. I haven’t been warm since. Now my feet lie under layers of blankets and freezing the air trapped below the covers.

3. I fought with a Kenyan over the natural color of my eyes and hair.

4. Two times I have opened the door and promptly flown across the room due to tackle.

5. I hate eating, it is a chore. I’ve thought about being hooked up to an IV but I’m terrified of needles.

6. I sometimes wish to be a scientist to solve this food issue by inventing a pill that can be taken once a week.

7. Order stresses me out.

8. I wanted to learn to snowboard to get over my fear of heights. I am still afraid of heights but no longer scared to run into a tree. It doesn’t hurt much and leaves a fantastic bruise.

9. I throw pencils across rooms without thinking. And not just a I-was-flicking-it-and-got-wild toss but an arm-cocked baseball throw. So far there have been no casualties.

10. I have a dartboard in my room because it reminds me of my father.

11. I’ve always wanted a younger sister.

12. I think the world looks its best at 3 a.m.

13. I have allergies 12 months a year.

14. I love to bake as long as I don’t have to use a recipe or measuring cups and spoons.

15. If there is someone or something I don’t like I will spend a good few hours thinking of reasons/ways to like them.

16. As was the case with salmon. I enjoy it because it has Omega-3s.

17. I got a D in my philosophy class (which I loved) because a boy from it was stalking me and I stopped going to it. Or because I refused to take the final.

18. It took me two summers to learn to ride a bike. Actually I learned one summer and then forgot how the next. Thus dispelling an age-old saying.

19. I fantasize of running (literally) away from life two to three times a week, Forest Gump style. It is incredibly painful for me to run more than 800 meters.

20. I believe in love at first sight and have been victim to it once. We still talk.

21. I have been a fugitive in the state of Utah.

22. I love to Latin dance but when I get bored with my partner I lose the count and end up off beat.

23. Hooker is my favorite word but wasn’t until a certain boy’s fascination with Captain Hook led to a derivation of his name.

24. Every pair of shoes I’ve worn have given me blisters, 1/3 of which bled. I still get blisters when I switch styles of shoes, i.e. from pumps to flats to sneakers to skate shoes.

25. I hate making eye contact with people. Hookers always make comments on the hue.

My Perfect Valentine

I feel that my previous post dismissing Valentine’s Day as a mediocre holiday upset some. The day failed me many years (I was almost attacked by a very angry Latina in ’96) and I failed my readers. But this year Cupid listened to my heart and produced a wonderful day. While an afternoon rolling in powder and dodging trees had me laughing and more than made up for ’96, something better was in store—the AVP Hot Winter Nights Tour.

They brought the beach to the E-Center and I spent the night watching some of my favorite boys play volleyball. What I didn’t know is that I would talk to each of the eight players between and after the matches. I wish I would have. I could have practiced in the mirror. I imagine it would have gone something like this:

Casey (Jennings)! Hey it’s been a while since the Carriage Cove days. You remember Stacey? Heather? We’re all doing fine.

Great to see you again. You’ve really improved your outdoor game.

Well, see ya.

And though I haven’t previously met Lauren Fendrick we do have a mutual acquaintance which would create an instant bond.

Lauren. You played with Brittany two summers ago right?

She’s a riot.

Yeah, she lived down the street from me.

No, it was in Lamar, before her family moved to Fowler.

Well, she was older than me and hung out with my sisters more. Funny story. One summer, or maybe it was fall, they decided to build a fort. Unfortunately there were some unsightly bushes and branches in their way and they thought it best to have a little bonfire. It wasn’t quite as controlled as it needed to be. I remember the fire truck rushing by only to stop five houses down. A few of the flames had landed on the front of the house. Nothing too major but definitely some smoke damage. I’d better get back to my seat. Good luck in the final game.

Instead my cool composure crumbled and Travis had to ask them if I could get a picture with them. I don’t know what is more embarrassing, that he asked and I am still excited about it or that I’ve posted it for the world to see.

Love me for what I am.

Wedding Cake

We all have our addictions. One of mine involves a specific food given at a specific function—wedding cake. You could say I’m a nut about weddings, but that would be a lie. You could say that cake is my guilty pleasure and you’d also be greeting Satan at the gates of hell. A safer truth might be that I’m a little obsessed with frosting and wedding cakes usually have the richest icing at least ¼ inch thick. That’s more than enough to make me ill.

It hasn’t. I’ve never felt like I couldn’t eat another bite of wedding cake. In a room full of beautiful people dressed in a glamorous version of their Sunday best hidden behind flowers, statues and gazeboes it seems idyllic. “Once on the lips, forever on the hips.” Not in this fairytale world. Each bite of cake is romantically filled with ignorance…er hope. There isn’t even the bitter aftertaste of aging that comes with birthday cake.

With this in mind I managed to snag three pieces of wedding cake in the last week. To taste two of them I ventured with my roommate Stacey in the frozen darkness further than my 15 mile radius. Her co-worker/friend’s reception in Layton offered both a chocolate and vanilla treat, fondant included. Again most people shrink away from that but it’s the part I love. I am disgusting.

Then a stroke of luck when Eric called to inform me that Benji’s brother was getting married and Ben could smuggle me a piece of cake. Here’s where things get tricky. No, not Ben sneaking a piece of cake, although it took some serious sweet talk to convince him it was a worthy cause. It’s tricky that Eric knows of my love for wedding cake. In moments of desperation when no one would marry I devised a fail proof plan to enjoy all the wedding cake I wanted.

It involves a diamond and a fake fiancé, Eric to be exact. Bless him for being accommodating, but I’ve never felt justified in dragging him around the Valley entrapped in a lie to sample cakes. It could happen though and when the mood strikes I think he’s on board.

Or he’s desperately searching for weddings to attend to placate me with cake so he doesn’t have to follow through with Operation Happily Ever After.