I just thought I’d pop by my dead, windswept, organ-music-in-a-minor-key, tumbleweeded, broken-shutter-banging-against a deserted house, creaky floorboarded, black hole blog to chat about a fun shirt I saw in the gym not long ago:
(Actually, the chick wearing this shirt had cut it all up so that it would look a little more jaunty with her yoga pants and gargantuan mega boob job.)
Naturally, I was on a treadmill directly in front of her as she joined in with a group of weirdos doing some kind of prancing around punching bags to disco music. There was a whole lot of waving of hands in the air and skipping and going “WHOOOOOO!” Every now and then everyone would fall down on the ground and frantically kick their legs on the mats and roll all over the place. Then they’d all pop up and flap their arms and hurl themselves into the punching bags.
Periodically, Shirt Chick would cast a smug look in my direction. I can only guess it was because she was proud she didn’t have to do something as embarrassing as running to stay in shape. I think there was a hint of relief in her expression, too. I’m assuming she was relieved that she wasn’t on a treadmill, since there was a very good chance that her bouncing titanic mammoth mammaries would hit her in the face and knock her unconscious.
Anyway, I get it. A lot of people DON’T RUN. The growing tidal wave of undue hatred for running is advertised in the 0.0 bumper stickers, the “Running Sucks” line of clothing, and the general huffiness of 5-across-walkers in the park who are always delighted to make an offensive runner stumble into a ditch in his or her attempt to get around them.
I don’t completely get why people feel the need to announce their disdain for running, but whatever floats their flabby-assed boats. And I’m sure it’s moderately gratifying to wear an anti-running frock into a gym where you most certainly will encounter at least a dozen or more runners who will be shocked (shocked, I say!) by your blouse. And isn’t instant gratification with a shock bonus what it’s all about these days?
Just think how great we could all feel by wearing our “I Don’t” shirts and marching into the exact places where we could offend and anger (awesome!) the most people!
Howzabout this frock for, say, a visit to McDonalds?
(I suggest ordering a small black coffee and then spending an hour sipping it while frowning sanctimoniously at people ordering food.)
This might be a nice tunic to wear into a blue-collar bar around midnight:
Or, conversely, a pleasant coverlet for waltzing into an AA meeting:
But definitely this snappy smock next time I go to the gym (or The Mall at Green Hills. Or Brentwood.)