because i am angry at the entire nation and almost everyone in it right now...well, i'm not going to write anything about that because it will just upset me more.
instead, i'm going to write a nice letter to a lovely lady i saw at the gym this morning.
Dear Lady in the Tan Shorts and Matching Sports Bra Ensemble,
You are obviously not a lithe young thing anymore, if you ever once were. Maybe there was a day when you looked like jailbait and could acceptably wear clothes that appeared as though they'd been painted on, but sister, let me tell you: That day is not today.
Let's start with the shorts. They were tan, yes--actually, a sort of beige that one only really sees on sofas or car upholstery. They had a white stripe up each side, just to remind us all that you were, in fact, quite sporty. Though they did show off a good amount of cellulited-and-varicose-veined leg, they were thankfully not short-shorts. However, good LORD woman, if they were any tighter, they probably could have qualified as internal organs.
On to the matching sports bra. Which you wore as a shirt. Which unless you are (as previously mentioned) a slim, borderline-underage female with small breasts, is just not a good choice. Ever. I am glad that you chose to wear
another sports bra underneath that one--white no less, to match the stripes on the shorts!--as I'm sure that saved us all from witnessing a lot of flapping and bouncing that no human eyes should ever have to see.
So whatever; you're not the first person to wear a seriously misguided outfit to a public exercise facility. I was willing to cut you some slack because as I chugged away on my elliptical machine, I began to think that maybe you wanted to show off your body because you'd lost a lot of weight. That I could see. Heck, I've lost six pounds and I'm about ready to declare myself all set for bikini season.
But let me tell you, fellow early-morning workout enthusiast, what drew me out of my reverie and made me, at last, decide that your outfit was Entirely Unnecessary: I hate to say it, but it was your back cleavage. You see, the fat that hangs around your body was so tightly packed into your clothing that it folded in upon itself, creating a rather unseemly, well,
seam down the middle of your back that I think, if I had tried, I could have gone about elbow-deep into. Don't get me wrong, I am no stranger to the back fat phenomenon, but I do feel that I have the right to criticize on this point because, well, I have the sense to 1. not show mine off in public, and furthermore 2. accentuate it with too-tight sportswear.
Please, Back Fat Cleavage Lady, do not take offense. If I have learned anything from joining a gym, it's that people come in all shapes and sizes, and I am certainly not the hot young Latina woman who treads the Stairmaster in ultra-low-rise cargo pants, a wife-beater, and a very visible, very tiny thong from time to time. No, I'm one of the older, rounder housewife-types who just looks at that girl and sighs,
Ah, youth.
But seriously. Do yourself a favor? Hike it on over to the Wal-Mart next door and invest in some new and possibly looser fitting clothing. And by "clothing," I mean sweatpants and a t-shirt, not athletic underwear.
Happy exercising,
ev.
