Keep pushing. Go a little further, lift a little more, go a bit faster, but don't give up until it hurts, which is most of the time.
This time it's my back. I have no idea what I did to it - probably something stupid like trying to pick up my beer when I should have had the help get it for me. But do I stop working out? Not a chance. I go for a massage. The lady I've been seeing knows just where to find the sore spots, the ones that she pushes at that make me flinch and she says "sorry sorry" then keeps at it until it actually feels better. Worth every penny. No pressure.
I told my doctor that I can swim the first mile just fine, then it starts to hurt. Her advice: Stop after one mile. That will be a $20 co-pay, please. Squeeze. I tell myself I just have to change my workout for awhile, maybe take out a second mortgage.
"Push" the spinning instructor shouts out, "PUSH". I sit up front in the coat closet they call the spinning room. Bike #2. My bike. Anyway, I can't see anyone except three other people. After class yesterday Spinning Instructor told me that half the class just putzed along. I suggested maybe they were out of shape, hurting, half asleep (we start at 5:30, FYI), or hungover, and I know about the hangover workouts. Today I swam my mile and just did some mat work. It was great - nice and easy - relax, relax. It was tempting to just crap out with a juice box and ask the lady in the fitness center for Story Time, but maybe that would be pushing my luck.
I had a general physical on Wednesday. Everything was good - except my blood pressure, that is, so I'll have to make some changes. Meditation, deep breathing, less salt. One of the recommendations I read was to eat an ounce of 70% chocolate a day. So I will force myself to do this too - I'm sure it won't be easy. FYI it goes great with beer and pretzels. The pressure is on.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Being Cool
When you're 15 there is nothing more important in the whole wide world than being cool. If you aren't cool by the time you are in your late 40s then face it: YOU ARE NOT COOL.
Appearing bored does not mean you are cool. Wearing retro 70s clothes that are cut too low, too tight, and are too bright will not disguise the fact that you are not cool (and that you are over 40). Talking too much is not cool (best left to tedious drunks anyway).
What's with that old lady who wears her sunglasses in the pool? Let's call her PolarEyes. I don't think she is trying to be cool. Maybe she's ducking the paparazzi. Wearing sunglasses is usually cool but in her case it's just weird. Now, that big black dude that sits in the hot tub with his sunglasses on is totally cool. Never says a word but when he does he's really laid back and friendly.
I was working in my library with two salesmen awhile back and I asked politely if they would mind taking the stairs up a level. The one guys says to me "I worked out for an hour this morning on the Stairmaster," then smiled at me like he was so cool. Hey, way not cool. One of the Rules of Cool is never seem desperate. And the Stairmaster of all things??? Too silly for words.
Hey Guys: Totally not cool are cut-off sweatpants, really short shorts, white sport socks pulled up tight around your calves, long loose hair when working out, and making loud grunting noises when you are lifting weights, especially if it looks like you really shouldn't be having a problem lifting them (should I offer to help?). And honestly, try lifting the corners of your mouth for a change. Looking mean will not help if you are still trying to be cool.
For the last 10 days the pool temperature was way too warm. It was Not Cool. But today it was much better - cool and clean and deliciously quiet. And Adonis was there. I think he is cool. He wore black, was very mysterious, and even though I know he could have gone faster and further, he didn't overdo it. I may be a dork, but I feel my own personal coolness skyrocket just being around someone that cool.
Appearing bored does not mean you are cool. Wearing retro 70s clothes that are cut too low, too tight, and are too bright will not disguise the fact that you are not cool (and that you are over 40). Talking too much is not cool (best left to tedious drunks anyway).
What's with that old lady who wears her sunglasses in the pool? Let's call her PolarEyes. I don't think she is trying to be cool. Maybe she's ducking the paparazzi. Wearing sunglasses is usually cool but in her case it's just weird. Now, that big black dude that sits in the hot tub with his sunglasses on is totally cool. Never says a word but when he does he's really laid back and friendly.
I was working in my library with two salesmen awhile back and I asked politely if they would mind taking the stairs up a level. The one guys says to me "I worked out for an hour this morning on the Stairmaster," then smiled at me like he was so cool. Hey, way not cool. One of the Rules of Cool is never seem desperate. And the Stairmaster of all things??? Too silly for words.
Hey Guys: Totally not cool are cut-off sweatpants, really short shorts, white sport socks pulled up tight around your calves, long loose hair when working out, and making loud grunting noises when you are lifting weights, especially if it looks like you really shouldn't be having a problem lifting them (should I offer to help?). And honestly, try lifting the corners of your mouth for a change. Looking mean will not help if you are still trying to be cool.
For the last 10 days the pool temperature was way too warm. It was Not Cool. But today it was much better - cool and clean and deliciously quiet. And Adonis was there. I think he is cool. He wore black, was very mysterious, and even though I know he could have gone faster and further, he didn't overdo it. I may be a dork, but I feel my own personal coolness skyrocket just being around someone that cool.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Heat Wave
I think one of the best inventions of the 20th century was underarm deoderant/anti-perspirant. Too bad not every one has heard about it.
It's been hot here in upstate NY - upwards to 100 degrees - for over a week now. I have moved slowly (not easy for me as a rule) among my air conditioned house, my air conditioned car, to the air conditioned Y,to the air conditioned car again, to the air conditioned library, back to my car which is now well over 6000 degrees Kelvin, and home to my air conditioned house. I almost ran over a runner at 6:00 pm on Thursday night, temperatures in the 90s. I almost stopped to offer him a ride.
And what's with the Big Sweaty Men, in this weather, going into the sauna and steam room at the gym? "Hey boys, why not just step outside?""If you want to break into a sweat why don't you try doing some exercise for a change?" Needless to say I stayed out of there, and kept my trap shut.
I went to SPAC on Wednesday night. 90 degree temperatures even as late as 11:00 p.m. I wondered what it was like for the dancers, in costume and makeup, under lights, with tights, leaping and twirling about. I wondered if they used Ban, and who does their dry cleaning. But they were beautiful to watch and it all seemed so effortless, like they didn't even notice how hot it was. I was in the balcony crammed in with alot of stinky people, including many that got all dolled up for the ballet only to find themselves all wet and wrinkled before the performance started. Sweat was dripping down the back of my neck and I wasn't even moving. The only thing moving in the balcony were fans and mosquitos, who, as always, found me quite delicious, especially my ankles and the backs of my knees.
Without the weather I wonder sometimes if anyone would have anything to talk about. This week I would politely ask "So how are you?" just to be nice, and all I would get in return was the one word answer, "Hot". I guess I didn't really want to know how anyone was anyway. And that's about it for hot topics in the locker room, too. What a bore. Think about it - what would it be like if there was no sun, nor rain, no snow, no breeze, no change over to darkness, just gray and neutral all the time? We'd have to resort to gossip again.
Ladies, can we please control the talcum powder thing? You are going to sweat right through it anyway. And what's with that strange woman who works out and changes into her work clothes and never showers? Yuck. I'm sure her co-workers are quite impressed with the fact that she exercises.
It's been hot here in upstate NY - upwards to 100 degrees - for over a week now. I have moved slowly (not easy for me as a rule) among my air conditioned house, my air conditioned car, to the air conditioned Y,to the air conditioned car again, to the air conditioned library, back to my car which is now well over 6000 degrees Kelvin, and home to my air conditioned house. I almost ran over a runner at 6:00 pm on Thursday night, temperatures in the 90s. I almost stopped to offer him a ride.
And what's with the Big Sweaty Men, in this weather, going into the sauna and steam room at the gym? "Hey boys, why not just step outside?""If you want to break into a sweat why don't you try doing some exercise for a change?" Needless to say I stayed out of there, and kept my trap shut.
I went to SPAC on Wednesday night. 90 degree temperatures even as late as 11:00 p.m. I wondered what it was like for the dancers, in costume and makeup, under lights, with tights, leaping and twirling about. I wondered if they used Ban, and who does their dry cleaning. But they were beautiful to watch and it all seemed so effortless, like they didn't even notice how hot it was. I was in the balcony crammed in with alot of stinky people, including many that got all dolled up for the ballet only to find themselves all wet and wrinkled before the performance started. Sweat was dripping down the back of my neck and I wasn't even moving. The only thing moving in the balcony were fans and mosquitos, who, as always, found me quite delicious, especially my ankles and the backs of my knees.
Without the weather I wonder sometimes if anyone would have anything to talk about. This week I would politely ask "So how are you?" just to be nice, and all I would get in return was the one word answer, "Hot". I guess I didn't really want to know how anyone was anyway. And that's about it for hot topics in the locker room, too. What a bore. Think about it - what would it be like if there was no sun, nor rain, no snow, no breeze, no change over to darkness, just gray and neutral all the time? We'd have to resort to gossip again.
Ladies, can we please control the talcum powder thing? You are going to sweat right through it anyway. And what's with that strange woman who works out and changes into her work clothes and never showers? Yuck. I'm sure her co-workers are quite impressed with the fact that she exercises.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Remaining Flexible
I hate when things get in my way, life unexpected, especially when I'm already having a hard time keeping it together. Must expand mind, straighten up, spread out, remain flexible, or I'm going to explode. Be warned, Little Bug: next time I come at you with a tension band - RUN.
I slept in until 6:00 a.m.: it's July 5th, Monday, almost no one on the road as I speed off to the Y. ARRGH. I get behind a drunk - weaving all over the place, driving 30, 35, 40, 30 again, in a 45 zone. I was going to take my time and amuse myself by watching him go into the ditch, but instead I passed him doing 65 illegally over two turn lanes, which was great for the heart rate. No time for this! I make it through the yellow light (small victories!) and finally get into the pool. Ahhhhh. It's already 80 degrees out and the water feels SO nice.
Only now I have to deal with The Talker. NOTE TO SELF: Don't get him started. He told me about his vest (even though I didn't ask about it) - it has a built in heart monitor that will help to maximize his workout. When I suggested that it would probably also warn him of a pending heart attack he didn't really get it. I think he repeated himself twice, started into bragging about some competition, sometime, somewhere as I sweetly tuned him out. I really needed this swim. Now. Earplugs in, cap on, goggles squished in place, 80 laps and I didn't need to share my lane. Sweet. No one got in my way.
I had to take a break from swimming, and some weight lifting moves, for over a month earlier this year because I injured my shoulder. I decided to spend extra time focusing on flexibility, figuring more time running or biking would probably kill me. Reach for toes, touch toes, head to knees, head on floor, pull on those hammies. I can do stuff now that I haven't been able to do since Middle School, plus I can drink. Being older certainly has it's benefits. But the trick is to Remain Flexible. Should that be so hard?
That's the problem: so much to do, so little time. I try to stay organized, plan my workouts (with time now also for stretching), my outfits, my work schedule, big projects and routine tasks, my dinner plans, my weekend, an excursion, and Life decides to try and trip me up. I always think it's the measure of the person how s/he deals with problems, conflict and crisis, and I try to Remain Flexible. But wait! WELCOME TO MENOPAUSE. Sometimes I can't shut it off, I toss and turn, I get so mad I stomp around, or so sad I just can't shake it. At least I didn't force buddy off the road but I might the next time.
Friday July 2: 4th of July long weekend approaching and a friend of my husband died suddenly in Nova Scotia, so he (husband) drove up for the service. Left behind with no company - just alot of chores to do on my own. An Aunt died on Saturday. Ugh. More sadness. But I'll try my best to Remain Flexible and enjoy the time off, think of old friends and family and the good times, relax in the hot weather, admire the gardens, and read a good book. I also look forward to My Time at the Y again tomorrow where I can leave my troubles outside that door.
But today I might go buy me one of those crazy vests and go for a drive, see if I can find my heart and get it going again. If you want to come along just let me know! Might be fun.
I slept in until 6:00 a.m.: it's July 5th, Monday, almost no one on the road as I speed off to the Y. ARRGH. I get behind a drunk - weaving all over the place, driving 30, 35, 40, 30 again, in a 45 zone. I was going to take my time and amuse myself by watching him go into the ditch, but instead I passed him doing 65 illegally over two turn lanes, which was great for the heart rate. No time for this! I make it through the yellow light (small victories!) and finally get into the pool. Ahhhhh. It's already 80 degrees out and the water feels SO nice.
Only now I have to deal with The Talker. NOTE TO SELF: Don't get him started. He told me about his vest (even though I didn't ask about it) - it has a built in heart monitor that will help to maximize his workout. When I suggested that it would probably also warn him of a pending heart attack he didn't really get it. I think he repeated himself twice, started into bragging about some competition, sometime, somewhere as I sweetly tuned him out. I really needed this swim. Now. Earplugs in, cap on, goggles squished in place, 80 laps and I didn't need to share my lane. Sweet. No one got in my way.
I had to take a break from swimming, and some weight lifting moves, for over a month earlier this year because I injured my shoulder. I decided to spend extra time focusing on flexibility, figuring more time running or biking would probably kill me. Reach for toes, touch toes, head to knees, head on floor, pull on those hammies. I can do stuff now that I haven't been able to do since Middle School, plus I can drink. Being older certainly has it's benefits. But the trick is to Remain Flexible. Should that be so hard?
That's the problem: so much to do, so little time. I try to stay organized, plan my workouts (with time now also for stretching), my outfits, my work schedule, big projects and routine tasks, my dinner plans, my weekend, an excursion, and Life decides to try and trip me up. I always think it's the measure of the person how s/he deals with problems, conflict and crisis, and I try to Remain Flexible. But wait! WELCOME TO MENOPAUSE. Sometimes I can't shut it off, I toss and turn, I get so mad I stomp around, or so sad I just can't shake it. At least I didn't force buddy off the road but I might the next time.
Friday July 2: 4th of July long weekend approaching and a friend of my husband died suddenly in Nova Scotia, so he (husband) drove up for the service. Left behind with no company - just alot of chores to do on my own. An Aunt died on Saturday. Ugh. More sadness. But I'll try my best to Remain Flexible and enjoy the time off, think of old friends and family and the good times, relax in the hot weather, admire the gardens, and read a good book. I also look forward to My Time at the Y again tomorrow where I can leave my troubles outside that door.
But today I might go buy me one of those crazy vests and go for a drive, see if I can find my heart and get it going again. If you want to come along just let me know! Might be fun.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Hairdo
At 4:30 a.m. I certainly don't look my best, especially if I've actually slept only to wake up with pillow cover wrinkle dinkles carved into my face. These are in addition to the ones I have earned over the past almost 50 years, so I'm an idiot to think anyone's going to notice.
But I try to look at least partly alive, thinking Hurly Burly might just pull me over again, this time for driving dead. I match my shorts to my top to my bra to my socks to my hairband. I wash my face, brush my teeth, comb my hair, put on lip gloss and deoderant, smile at myself in the mirror, then make a face, and bolt out the door. I'm in a big hurry to get to the Y.
Why do I bother? After 45 minutes on the treadmill I resemble a wet squirrel with its shorts stuck upside its butt. And New Guy is only interested in the younger gals who pussy foot around with their hairdos, perfume, jewelry, makeup, rose tattoos, piercings, and 10 perfect nails. But I console myself, straighten my shorts, lick my tail and nibble on my acorn, knowing they may be cute as the dickens, but I'm still cut. SteveArino told me one day that I looked great. I chomped down on my gum a few times and said in my best NY accent "It's the gum what makes me attractive". NOT.
So I'm checking out New Guy while he's busy zooming the pretty girl that works behind the counter. Then there were all these new guys in the pool this week to check out, many are very cut, and I'm sure I looked my best with my flip flops and cap and suit that all match, and big rings around my eyes from the goggles. One of our area pools is closed this week so we have Interlopers crowding the lanes. But it's okay. Nice to have something hot to look at for a change. Good thing we've got Sharin'. She dresses the place up nice.
Then it's a shower, get weighed, get dressed, dry and style the hair (hairdo), makeup, more makeup, get the cat hair off my pants, underwear, socks, shoes, jewelry, pants, belt, top, get more cat hair off my top, and TA-DA, I'm ready to bolt. I often wish everything matched better but there's NO TIME, I am wearing what I'm wearing even if it looks awful because it's what I packed last night in the dark without trying it on first I have to get to work. Stitch sometimes calls me glamour girl. At least I remembered the bra.
Every year it seems to take me longer and longer to look my best. But I try. In a couple of weeks I am going to a cosmetic party that the Cheater is hosting to buy products that will make our skin as beautiful and youthful as Puppy Sweet Cheeks. I'll bring a checkbook.
But I try to look at least partly alive, thinking Hurly Burly might just pull me over again, this time for driving dead. I match my shorts to my top to my bra to my socks to my hairband. I wash my face, brush my teeth, comb my hair, put on lip gloss and deoderant, smile at myself in the mirror, then make a face, and bolt out the door. I'm in a big hurry to get to the Y.
Why do I bother? After 45 minutes on the treadmill I resemble a wet squirrel with its shorts stuck upside its butt. And New Guy is only interested in the younger gals who pussy foot around with their hairdos, perfume, jewelry, makeup, rose tattoos, piercings, and 10 perfect nails. But I console myself, straighten my shorts, lick my tail and nibble on my acorn, knowing they may be cute as the dickens, but I'm still cut. SteveArino told me one day that I looked great. I chomped down on my gum a few times and said in my best NY accent "It's the gum what makes me attractive". NOT.
So I'm checking out New Guy while he's busy zooming the pretty girl that works behind the counter. Then there were all these new guys in the pool this week to check out, many are very cut, and I'm sure I looked my best with my flip flops and cap and suit that all match, and big rings around my eyes from the goggles. One of our area pools is closed this week so we have Interlopers crowding the lanes. But it's okay. Nice to have something hot to look at for a change. Good thing we've got Sharin'. She dresses the place up nice.
Then it's a shower, get weighed, get dressed, dry and style the hair (hairdo), makeup, more makeup, get the cat hair off my pants, underwear, socks, shoes, jewelry, pants, belt, top, get more cat hair off my top, and TA-DA, I'm ready to bolt. I often wish everything matched better but there's NO TIME, I am wearing what I'm wearing even if it looks awful because it's what I packed last night in the dark without trying it on first I have to get to work. Stitch sometimes calls me glamour girl. At least I remembered the bra.
Every year it seems to take me longer and longer to look my best. But I try. In a couple of weeks I am going to a cosmetic party that the Cheater is hosting to buy products that will make our skin as beautiful and youthful as Puppy Sweet Cheeks. I'll bring a checkbook.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Bubbles
I've overheard Poison Ivy for the past 3 days now tell her story to anyone who would listen (or was within 2 feet of her even if they were trying to ignore her) about how she got poison ivy walking out to her mailbox. Yesterday she showed me the bubbles from her poison ivy and told me her story as well. UGH. These are BAD bubbles. Being the sympathetic type, I told her she was infectious and shouldn't even be at the Y. Today I changed lockers - different row. She's wacko.
Changing lockers was weird and wonderful. Three times I went to my old locker and someone else's stuff was in there and I had to take a moment to remember where I'd put my stuff, what day it was, where I was, and wonder do I have to go to work now. Change is good because I got to be nice to a new member in Row Two, I did my good deed! - so now I'm off the hook for a week, back to being S.L.B. Hah! Time to do a blog!!!
Most bubbles are GOOD BUBBLES. I love throwing balloons in the pool when someone has a birthday. And I like bouncing up and down on the stability balls. I like that when I swim I breathe bubbles. And I like little bubbles in my booze. One of my favorites is prosecco, and Strawberry had lots to share at Sharin's engagement party on Wednesday night. What a great time! Everyone was in high spirits, especially me after several glasss of prosecco. Sharin' and her fiance were glowing. They could have floated away in a bubble of love like the one the Good Witch of the North travelled around inside of in The Wizard of Oz. This has been a wonderful change in her life and I hope they get old and fat and happy together. NOTE: If anyone busts Sharin's bubble me and the Cheater are going to take them down.
Bad bubbles are too many little bubbles in too many glasses of prosecco. These are definitely BAD BUBBLES.
We had three lifeguards on Wednesday - the experience was positively effervescent. For 10 years they have only ever had two sleepy lifeguards on duty between 5:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m. It's a long shift and the place is busier than ever - definitely time for a change. The swimmers were happy because we got to spread out, relax, and get into the zone without being forced to move because a lifeguard needs to pee and thus close down lanes. The lifeguards were friendlier because they could go pee (or sleep in the office, or the locker room, or anywhere they can't be found for that matter). I filled out a Suggestion suggesting that they should ALWAYS have three lifeguards on, and put it in the Box, knowing full well that no one will ever read it.
I had a rotten start to my week and the good vibes from the party made me feel better than I have in a long time - thank you, everyone, for getting my head out of that bubble. Kindness is contagious. Poison ivy is also contagious. Poison Ivy wasn't there today. I wonder if she will wait until we have snow to return to the Y, when it might also be safe to finally pick up her mail. That'll be about when they read my Suggestion.
Changing lockers was weird and wonderful. Three times I went to my old locker and someone else's stuff was in there and I had to take a moment to remember where I'd put my stuff, what day it was, where I was, and wonder do I have to go to work now. Change is good because I got to be nice to a new member in Row Two, I did my good deed! - so now I'm off the hook for a week, back to being S.L.B. Hah! Time to do a blog!!!
Most bubbles are GOOD BUBBLES. I love throwing balloons in the pool when someone has a birthday. And I like bouncing up and down on the stability balls. I like that when I swim I breathe bubbles. And I like little bubbles in my booze. One of my favorites is prosecco, and Strawberry had lots to share at Sharin's engagement party on Wednesday night. What a great time! Everyone was in high spirits, especially me after several glasss of prosecco. Sharin' and her fiance were glowing. They could have floated away in a bubble of love like the one the Good Witch of the North travelled around inside of in The Wizard of Oz. This has been a wonderful change in her life and I hope they get old and fat and happy together. NOTE: If anyone busts Sharin's bubble me and the Cheater are going to take them down.
Bad bubbles are too many little bubbles in too many glasses of prosecco. These are definitely BAD BUBBLES.
We had three lifeguards on Wednesday - the experience was positively effervescent. For 10 years they have only ever had two sleepy lifeguards on duty between 5:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m. It's a long shift and the place is busier than ever - definitely time for a change. The swimmers were happy because we got to spread out, relax, and get into the zone without being forced to move because a lifeguard needs to pee and thus close down lanes. The lifeguards were friendlier because they could go pee (or sleep in the office, or the locker room, or anywhere they can't be found for that matter). I filled out a Suggestion suggesting that they should ALWAYS have three lifeguards on, and put it in the Box, knowing full well that no one will ever read it.
I had a rotten start to my week and the good vibes from the party made me feel better than I have in a long time - thank you, everyone, for getting my head out of that bubble. Kindness is contagious. Poison ivy is also contagious. Poison Ivy wasn't there today. I wonder if she will wait until we have snow to return to the Y, when it might also be safe to finally pick up her mail. That'll be about when they read my Suggestion.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Signs We Don't See
Everything is okay for now. No matter what - strained muscles, marriages, or budgets - no worries! Take it from me: things won't get worse and could, in fact, get much, much better!!! I know this for certain because the "NO TURNAROUND" sign at the corner where we turn into the gym is now down.
Since the NO TURNAROUND sign is down, knowing there's hope, I'm sure I will start looking younger tomorrow when this new $54 bottle of anti-aging lotion is sure to kick in. My neck will also look youthful again. I now know that a sure sign of aging is the crepey neck, something I was blissfully unaware of until I read the last book group selection "I Feel Bad About My Neck". But I won't go as far as Botox Bitch.
I think Botox Bitch is new around here, and she has also apparently taken advantage of the sign being down. Her face doesn't move, and neither does she if you want to get in the lane with her. She also talks on the phone in the locker room, which, if you see the sign, is NOT ALLOWED. So I am shunning her and hope she goes away soon.
I think we need another sign by the hot tub: PLEASE DO NOT DISCUSS POLITICS, SPORTS, or PERSONAL INJURIES. "I don't give a shit" and "you talk too much" are not the perfect comeback when someone starts on any of these topics, but early in the morning I may have forgotten to turn on my brain, so please forgive me if I stare at you instead of responding. Particularly if you launch into What Hurts. Plus, the sign is down (haven't you noticed?) - so there's nothing to be concerned about. At least for now.
So it's okay that my Bicep Femoris has been aching for weeks, that things at home could be better, that Chicago might win the Stanley Cup, and that the NYS budget still hasn't passed. Things can only improve!!! Until the NO TURNAROUND sign goes back up we'll all be fine. Trust me. The orange cones are just a warning.
Since the NO TURNAROUND sign is down, knowing there's hope, I'm sure I will start looking younger tomorrow when this new $54 bottle of anti-aging lotion is sure to kick in. My neck will also look youthful again. I now know that a sure sign of aging is the crepey neck, something I was blissfully unaware of until I read the last book group selection "I Feel Bad About My Neck". But I won't go as far as Botox Bitch.
I think Botox Bitch is new around here, and she has also apparently taken advantage of the sign being down. Her face doesn't move, and neither does she if you want to get in the lane with her. She also talks on the phone in the locker room, which, if you see the sign, is NOT ALLOWED. So I am shunning her and hope she goes away soon.
I think we need another sign by the hot tub: PLEASE DO NOT DISCUSS POLITICS, SPORTS, or PERSONAL INJURIES. "I don't give a shit" and "you talk too much" are not the perfect comeback when someone starts on any of these topics, but early in the morning I may have forgotten to turn on my brain, so please forgive me if I stare at you instead of responding. Particularly if you launch into What Hurts. Plus, the sign is down (haven't you noticed?) - so there's nothing to be concerned about. At least for now.
So it's okay that my Bicep Femoris has been aching for weeks, that things at home could be better, that Chicago might win the Stanley Cup, and that the NYS budget still hasn't passed. Things can only improve!!! Until the NO TURNAROUND sign goes back up we'll all be fine. Trust me. The orange cones are just a warning.
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