Musings at the gym

I was wrapping up my workout the other morning when in walked the long-legged wannabe beauty queen. Past her prime, but still young enough to make anyone look twice. Her body, on the other hand, was still basking in the fountain of youth. Not that I could know for sure - I just can't imagine it ever looking better. Anyway, I'm really not that pervert in the gym who leers at you from afar. Or up close for that matter. Nor do I go to the gym for those reasons. But sometimes, Jesus. Looking twice is essential to make sure you saw what you just saw. Which means occasionally you get caught looking in the mirror.

Not that I'm saying I got caught looking the mirror. I could give a fuck. I will not, however, go out of my way and strain my neck to get a glance at someone. That's embarrassing. So the other morning, there I was on the mat looking into the mirror after an uninspired set of stomach crunches. And I saw a pair of legs walk around the mirrored wall behind me. They belonged to her. Naturally.

Anyway, they were long legs. I mean long. Not that she was super tall. It's just that her shorts were super small. And baby blue. And then everything slowed down. Fog crept in under the doors and she threw her hair back. Different music was playing now. She was also wearing leggings and a head band - straight out of some 80's movie tucked far far away in the corner of my mind. If my mind had corners it was certainly there. But this girl didn't start doing Jazzercise. Instead, she did some toe touches, which honestly didn't leave much to the imagination. Much to mine anyway. Hey, I'm trying to workout over here! And then, to my disbelief, she started doing side bends and with one foot elevated, her vagina was practically winking at me. I winked back.

And to answer your question, yes I just said vagina. Oh my God! Heaven's to Betsy! Yes, I know. And I have a penis. The match made in heaven. Moving on. Call me what you will, but pretty much any man is going to notice these things. I'm just putting it in writing. And being honest. And having said that, I really don't need to be seeing that at the gym. Not that I want an all-male gym. No thanks. Definitely prefer a gym of the coed variety, but I don't need to be thinking about sex while I'm working on my stomach. Yes, I should have better control of my thoughts. But I can't because I'm a dog. I mean, a man. And any man would have been thinking the same - even a monk. And this is one reason why, ladies, that men think about sex too much. You're the reason. I'd probably be onto bigger and better things by now, but I've been set back by all these 'unfortunate' and rather time-consuming events in my life. And thus, have progressed rather slowly. One might think this kind of thing could inspire, but really it just leads to perspiration rather than inspiration. And with that, I conclude this nonsense.