the beautiful people

did my first workout tonight. the place was full of perfect women with tiny butts and matching excercise suits. i fit right in.

i tried not to let it bother me. hating to be judged externally. i didn't say more than two words to anyone. and wished i'd brought my mp3 player along to keep me company. i really doubt they'll ever play tori amos or metallica. and this sweating to the oldies crap they play is really not for me.

i try not to be antisocial, but chit chat comes hard to me. i'd rather be silent. it makes more sense in my mind to just be silent than prattle on about nothing. (like i do here. ha!)

i've almost finished my second big glass of water today (that was my goal). i got my heart rate up where it needed to be, put in my time, and lit on outta there.

i'm not desperate for people to talk to. i'm not into updating strangers about my life. it's not the kind of place you can have a conversation with only one person in hushed tones. and those are really the only kinds of conversations i care to have at this point. the kind that two people lean into each other and have.

my best friend in seattle pulled over on the freeway, the 91 in california, not a small freeway, once. she and i were talking and she stopped right in the middle of the offramp because i clammed up about something.

she called me a couple nights ago, and tells me she has stopped on the freeway again (i don't know the freeways in seattle or i'd tell you), and she is sitting by the side of the road talking to me. she sat there for at least an hour. i didn't realize she was doing that (when i did, i kept asking her to drive home).

my other best friend in texas said,

if you come back, i'll quit teaching.

why,

i said.

to spend more time with you.

it really left me speechless. have you ever had friends like this? people who rally around you and hold you up. people who know you so completely you believe their counsel and trust them to be utterly honest even when the topics get really brutal.

those are the kinds of people i'm used to talking to. so if you want me to spill my guts on a step machine, it ain't going to happen. but if you spend some time, don't mind my colorful clothing and not regulation size hiney, then we'll get along just fine. (did you know the air force pilots have to have a regulation size hiney to fly?) wild.

needless to say, i won't be flying jets any time soon.