No, I look more like this:
Which brings us back to my story. I've been working out at the gym a lot for my weight loss challenge. There's a super buff guy there, who I see just about every time I'm there. He always smiles and says hi. I always assumed he was one of the personal trainers I didn't know. So, being the polite person I am, I nod or say hello as I pass by too. That's it.
Until today.
About thirty minutes into my running &weight training workout (which was totally kicking my butt - hence the red face and mega sweat), I ran into this guy again while running one of my laps. I had to slow down and walk around some ladies blocking the path & this guy (walking the opposite direction) stops me.
He motions for me to take off my headphones (cause I like to blast Bon Jovi and try to forget the torture I'm putting myself through).
I pulled out the ear buds. "Hi," I said, panting and trying to catch my breath.
"Hi, I'm Steve. What's your name?" Buff Guy said back.
"Danyelle," I reply. Hey, I'm nice like that!
"I see you here a lot, working out and pushing yourself. I just wanted to say I think you're doing a great job. Keep it up," he said.
I smile. "Thanks."
He smiles back, then turns back to head wherever he was going and I put my headphones back on and continue my lap. About ten minutes later, Buff Guy comes up to me again. This time while I'm lifting weights.
"Hey," he said. "I was wondering how often you come in. I thought maybe we could plan some days to work out together."
At this point, I was trying to figure out if that's a business question and he's trying to drum up some more personal training clients or if he's actually asking me a personal question. So, I figured being honest is the best route to go.
"Well, it just depends on my kids schedules."
A surprised look crosses his face. "Oh. You have kids. How many?"
"Four," I reply.
His eyes bug out. "You have four kids?"
"Yes." Just imagine the smile on my face.
"So, I assume you're, uh, married?" Buff Guy asks.
"Yes, my hubby and I have been married for twelve years." I probably looked like a dork, all sweaty with a cheesy grin on my face.
"Oh. Well, uh, have a great work out." And man, he was outta there lickety split!
So, I guess that means he wasn't a personal trainer for the gym, huh? I made sure to stop by the personal trainer board after my work out, and guess what? No Steve's.
I came home, told my hubby about Buff Guy and just couldn't stop laughing! Man, why do these things have t happen when I don't have a friend around to say, "Holy smokes! Did you see that???"
This brings me to a question - Why would a guy try to pick up a nasty-smelling-sweaty-obviously-overweight chick at the gym? Is my allure just that magnetic? (Yeah, you can peel your laughing behind off the ground now . . . )
I did learn one important lesson today. Apparently it doesn't matter how much we chickies weigh or even how good we smell. If we just keep working hard to be the best chicks we can be, we're always attractive, sexy, beautiful, gorgeous women.
Even if we are red-faced, sweaty, and stinky.
