At The Gym With The Fabulous Miss Vee

Just back from my second visit to the gym this week. I recently found this picture of myself taken the summer before The Boy was born and realized that I couldn't even get my leg into that mini-skirt I'm wearing (I'm the second from right). I also realize now, looking at it posted, that I have incredibly knobby knees. What's up with that? Oh well, my friends are smoking hot - they all still look like that, those biotches, and two of them have had kids since me! So, I tell myself, who's gonna notice my knees (or fat) when surrounded by such beauty, eh?

Tragically, as I can't always count on my friends being available to distract others from my overt voluptuousness (to put it kindly), to the gym I must go. Lucky for me my gym buddy is the Fabulous Miss Vee, a long-time childhood friend of mine (not pictured). She is a six-foot tall blond Amazonian goddess who has no real need to exercise, but she does have the super-motivating effect of making me look even shorter and dumpier when I stand next to her in front of those god awful ceiling-to-floor mirrors doing squats.

I think she missed her vocation; she should have been a drill sergeant, as she excels at shouting at me when I want to quit. "Think about The Boy! Don't you want to be able to run and actually catch him without having a stroke?" she cajoles. "No whining! Whining is for flabby people!" she reminds me gently.

Not only did the Fabulous Miss Vee grow up here, she has the added bonus of being married to a county government official and is also a member of the Junior League. This trifecta results in her knowing practically everyone who walks through the door. If she's in the mood, she can keep me entertained with amusing stories while we walk on the treadmill until I forget that I am totally out of shape and end up pulling a hamstring.

Having been the subject of town gossip for over a year, I don't have a problem with listening to tales about other people now. Life in a small town was ever thus, I say philosophically to myself, whenever I feel guilty. Which is not often.

Tonight our workout was a goodie as always, the time just flew by:

"You see that guy in the blue sweatshirt? I remember when he was little, he was kind of fat and dumpy and could never get a date. He's a good guy, he just looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy, bless his heart. Hi!", she shouts, waving to a pretty brunette getting off the elliptical nearby, who cheerfully waves back.

"Who's that?" I ask.

"That's Michelle, she's married to Andy, you know the local insurance guy, you met them at my Christmas party last year. Nice couple. That's the party where Laura announced to everyone on the patio that her husband got a lap dance from a stripper the last time he was in Atlanta on business, and then they had that big fight and went home?".

"Oh yeah, I remember that, the SO was trapped out there for an hour listening to her tale of woe, he was really mad at me that I ditched him with her", I say. We laugh, thinking better him than us. Women can be cruel.

"They're having trouble getting pregnant." she continues.

"Who, Laura?" I interrupt, confused.

"Oh my god, no, Laura got pregnant that very night when they went home and had make-up sex. Apparently, all you have to do is look at her and she gets knocked up, sad to say, their first kid was bratty enough for three. No, Michelle and Andy want a baby, they're doing all that fertility stuff where you have to take your temperature and then stand on your head after you do it, but they haven't had any luck yet. Anyway, when he graduated from high school ..."

"Who, Andy?" I interrupt again, still confused.

"No, the guy in the blue sweatshirt over there, his name is Michael. When he graduated, he started working out and got pretty buff and eventually managed to snag Amanda, she's that gal who works for the Farm Bureau, you remember her, the cute little blond I pointed out at Belk's the last time we were there? Everyone thought she was kind of out of his league at the time, but they went ahead and got hitched. D and I went to their wedding at the Baptist church on Main Street, what a palaver, it was a real society la-di-dah "do", you know the deal. Her daddy is some big corporate chief over at RTP, I'm sure you've seen him driving that yellow Porsche around town".

"I have no idea who you're talking about." I assure her.

"You haven't seen him? You will, he must be going through the male menopause, he's all over the place in that thing. Is your heart rate at 140 yet? At your age, it's got to get at least to 140 for the cardio, I always increase the incline for a better burn. You doing that?"

"Yes, increasing the incline right away", I whimper and comply.

"Dammit these pants from Target are sweaty! You get what you pay for, I always forget that. Anyhoo, before the wedding cake crumbs got dusted off his jacket, he let himself GO and BAM he was fat as all get out. Now he's working out again, and people are wondering if he doesn't have some bit on the side. I don't think so, I think his better half told him to shape up or ship out, her type is shallow like that. But there's definitely some woman behind it, he's looking slimmer now, that's for sure. Lord, I should have shaved my legs, they are driving me crazy. But I never shave the whole leg in the winter, only the bits you can see. Maybe I should, D would probably think he'd died and gone to heaven..."

Ding! chimes the timer on my treadmill. Damn, is that the time? Another workout done before I know it!

"Too bad this place doesn't have a bar in it, I could kill a beer right now!"

Are you listening gym owners? Words of wisdom from the Fabulous Miss Vee....