"tryin' to make some sense of this,
tryin' to save face with false appearances..." Riddlin Kids
So at the gym today I'm doing my reverse curls, which I hate anyway for their nauseating, motion-sickness inducing value, and this guy comes over to tell me I'm doing them wrong.
To myself: Oh, did I ask you? No!
But I tried the nice approach, sans friendly smile. "This is how my trainer told me to do it."
His breezy reply? (Are you reading, J?) "Yeah, they don't really know anything. I'm a chiropractor..."
Which of course explained a lot. Fucking know-it-all, wannabe-a-real-doctor, shoe-sales-man-y, doing-actual-damage-and-getting-paid-a-fortune-for-it type. No, I don't like chiroquackters. Don't trust 'em. Tried one and he did absolutely nothing but take a whole shitload of money.
So I listened silently while he blessed me with his "knowledge" (translate- bullshit) and all the time I'm wishing I looked meaner. You know, like someone that no one in their right mind would approach without a hefty reccommendation from a close friend. Alas, God cursed me with a friendly face and a kind nature.
I keep myself in decent shape. I wear makeup to the gym. I look young. I know all of these qualities comine to make me look like one of those sort who want you to talk to me. But I'm not. I work out on the guy side, and those chicks usually only do it to pick up on the buff dudes. But I am actually there to work out, and I keep my own buff dude at home. I don't do all of it for you. (Never mind for whom I'm doing all the working out and make-up - it's none of your business. The affected party knows who he is and regularly shows his appreciation.)
My friend suggested that I try to look pissed off all the time, but when I approximated a pissed-off expression in the mirror I just looked constipated. No wonder my kids don't snap-to whenever I give them the look.
So I guess I need to go with the "Big Scary Guy" look (yes, he's an actual person - more on him later). Except for three problems: I'm not big. I'm not scary. I'm not a guy.
So here is my plea: Big Scary Guy, please come back to the gym. I know that chick dumped you, but she's harrassing a new boyfriend now. She's not so great anyway. I swear I won't talk to you, I won't even look at you in all your mean weirdness. I'd just like to sort of work out near you, because no one dares to speak in your presence.
Hmm. One can only hope.