We took the kids to the Rec Center again. Because (it’s fucking cold and if we don’t get out of the house we will end up giving the children “swooshies” where we put their heads in the toilet just for kicks) we’re all active like that.
So anyway, I’m sportin’ my black sweatpants from 1992. These things are one generation away from the elastic at the ankle kind of sweat pants. I do not look MILFy. Or Mrs. Robinson-y. And I figured it wouldn’t really matter because let’s face it, this Rec Center is at Georgia Tech. One of the best engineering schools in the country. You know what that means, right? A student body absolutely overrun with geeks and dorks. That’s kind of what I was counting on.
I was wrong.
As far as the eye can see there are hot, sweaty, half naked man-boys doing sit-ups and pull-ups and oh-my-God-what-is-that-thing-he’s-doing-on-that-rowing-machine?! Suddenly I felt very old.
Scott and Parker were going to run on the indoor track while Tempel and I played racquetball. Tempel’s pretty good at racket sports. She’s got fifth degree Ninja eye-hand coordination. (Fist bump Nintendo!) But the courts were full. So we decided to walk around the track while Scott and Parker were running.
Sidenote: Parker is eight. Her legs are half the height of Scott’s. So she’s like a midget. But she can run with him. I mean he says he slows down for her but I think he’s just saying that to protect his manhood so I call bullshit. She’s speedy is what I’m saying. And she just completely randomly decided to run 20 laps. Which is about 3 miles. And before you send me ten bajillion emails, let me just say that, Yes. Yes, I have already made a note about it in my “I swear she’s not from my loins” dossier so that when the aliens come back to look for her I can say to everyone, “See! I told you she wasn’t like me.”
So anyway, Tempel and I wander up to the track and start walking and every few minutes Parker zooms by us in a flash which is getting really freaking annoying but not nearly as annoying as trying to walk on an elevated track with She-Who-Must-Touch-It. OCD is a constant delight let me tell you. Tempel, stop touching that. Stop touching that. Stop touching that.
Stop. Touching. That.
But once she had put her hand on the rail there was nothing anyone could to about it. She would need to rub the nasty thing all the way around without taking her hand up or the universe would collapse on itself compressing time and space into one blink and then boom we’d all be dead. So she basically saved your life. You’re welcome.
Now if you don’t think I looked super-hot-mamma cool walking around the track yelling StopTouchingThat at one kid while the other one kept zooming by and goosing me while I hiked up my sweatpants from the last millennium then you’d be wrong. I’m sure I was catching the eye of the hot sweaty man-boys stretching on the mat next to the track. They were right there. Clinging to the edge of the track. You could almost reach out and… Stop. Touching. That.
I dragged Tempel along a bit faster. I thought maybe this would be our last lap. If I can just get the two of us off this track without her putting that dirty hand to her face or me tripping over these enormous sweatpants then we’ll be fine. I’ll be cool. I’ll be the cool super-hot-mamma the guys saw at the Rec Center that time.
Ok, last lap. Here comes Dash, I mean Parker. See you at the water fountain when you’re done you little freak. ( I say it with love so it’s ok.) Tempel! Stop. Touching. That. Last lap. Ok, we’re good. Oh look, man-boy on the right is doing push-ups. Oh. Ok, I’m cool. Wait, there are two girls coming up behind us, they’re distracting Tempel! They’re speaking in Chinese. Or Korean? Or Japanese? Shit I don’t know but she’s trying to walk backwards to listen to the fascinating language. No! Eyes front. We’re almost there! Oh geez, now he’s lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. For the love of Pete…
Then it happens. Tempel is weaving back to the rail so she can keep touching it and the Asian girls are trying to cut over to the water fountain but they can’t steer! they’re cutting me off! they verge right in front of me! And then trip! smack! boom!
I’m down.
I have tripped. And I didn’t have the good luck to have just fallen gracefully, instead I have done this awful sort of lunging thing to catch myself right on the mat with the hot sweaty man-boys. And now I am the old lady that almost fell on them that one time at the gym.
After the quick, embarrassing, I’m fine, no no, fine crap that you do when you make an ass out of yourself I grabbed Tempel and made a run for it.
Huh. I guess that’s what it took to get me to go running at the gym.
I am so sorry, but at the same time I can’t quit laughing!
I’m lauging with you, though! I would never be rude enough to laugh at you!!
This is exactly why I adore you: eff the work out, keep the old sweat pants, fall in public places. HOW WE SUFFER FOR BEAUTY!!
ms picket to you´s last blog ..Oh Rain — How You Mock Me With Your Cheerful Dumb Songs About Rain
Nice…If you wanted to be cool, you should have asked the desk staff for scissors…you could have cut your sweats and had some old school sweat shorts..with cameltoe! Wait for the bruise in the morning…it will be a good story! Just laughed out loud!
Stella´s last blog ..I Am Me
I think Stella got her groove back….
Braja´s last blog ..Holy Cow!
I read most of that post fearing that the sweat pants were falling right the hell off…so, at least you have THAT to be thankful for.
Cindy S (Serial Swooper)´s last blog ..Jason Mraz Stole My Toothbrush
Girl, you slay me. And I think I have those same sweatpants.
Meanwhile, I wore some pants to the gym the other day that for some godawful reason I decided needed to be worn with a thong. How in the fucking hell do women do this? I was nearly in tears by the time I left and there might have been the application of diaper creme when I got home. I’ll stick with my 1992 sweatpants.
Carabee´s last blog ..36
I never go to the gym anymore because it’s full of my students sweating and flexing and staring at me in my holey, tired elastic workout “gear”. It’s a good day if no one points and laughs.
Oh, that OCD thing! My son went through a period where he would lick the railing that separated the check-out lanes in the supermarket every. single. time. I got to say “Don’t lick that! Don’t lick that!”, which is excellent out of context.
I was sure he was going to die of some horrific disease, but so far he’s still alive.
Vic´s last blog ..Decorating with the Harbinger of Death. Also, Fun with Sucker Punches.
So, there’s not going to be a cartoon called “Sport Caroline” any time soon?
Muskrat´s last blog ..happy 60-something
At least you didn’t get pantsed (is that how it’s spelled?) I was waiting for that… And I can relate to “don’t touch that.” But my son is four so we still have a wider range of admonishments that include “don’t eat that” and “don’t lick that.”
Big thank you to Tempel, I felt a divergence in the Force this weekend.
Captain Dumbass´s last blog ..Famous Canadian Proverbs
Too funny. When I read these stories about kids, I wish I . . . oh hell, no I don’t. I’m still glad I’m childless!!!
If they are really college underclassmen, they really don’t care what you are wearing or how coordinated you are.
Pretty much: boobies = GO!Go!Go!
Kurt´s last blog ..It Started to Be About Feelings But Then… Kitty Fart Cup!
Being stuck in the midst of boys from 11 to 30 all summer, I totally second Kurt’s comment. Boobies are really all they care about.
And once, I fell down in front of 300 people. Like completely wiped out, sliding through gravel. When I went to the hospital the next day to get my knee checked out…the doctor asked me why I was running and if I’d been drinking. So apparently she thought I was an alcoholic fat klutz who had no business trying to run. Thanks ER doctor. ER doctor one, my self esteem 0.
♥Spot
Spot´s last blog ..Oh happy day!! You’re a medical oddity…
I tried on my swimsuit this weekend because I had this bizarre thought flit into my head that maybe I should jump into the pool when I take the boys to the Y. First I screamed, then I dug around for some pants. I could use some of those sweet sweatpants. It’s tough getting a swimsuit off quickly when you’re in a panic.
foradifferentkindofgirl (fadkog)´s last blog ..if this was an episode of ‘behind the music,’ hall & oates would confess she’s the inspiration for ‘maneater’
This is the exact reason I don’t go use the rec center that is on our local college campus. It’s fear. I usually feel pretty good looking out and about. Random men open doors, I get smiles and nods, etc. However, in that arena I have nothing but fear that I look like some over aged woman trying to hang on to her youth. Then heaven forbid I am such a klutz that I know I would fall.
My sympathies – but I do need to giggle a bit at your misfortune.
Laura´s last blog ..Gratitude With Attitude Tuesday!
This is exactly why I steer clear of any and all things with the name of “rec center” or “gym.” *shudder*
I like the image of Road Runner Parker, though!
justmakingourway´s last blog ..She
and you’ve just convinced me and my sweatpants to never enter a gym again!
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