And If It Were Warm She Wouldn’t Wear Much More

Deep within the heart of Texas on the cusp of the hill country, a north side health club bustles with activity.  Patrons in various states of dress ranging from fleece to spandex endeavor to pick things up, put them down, step up, step down, and generally exert different types of activity in order to rip an ab and shed a pound.


One particular young lady decked out in form fitting spandex designed to show off that tattoo on her lower back and the curvature of her well toned physique works the elliptical machine in very pronounced moves to catch the attention of anyone in the immediate vicinity.  The attendants at the front counter have even trained one of the security cameras on her and monitor the young hottentot’s progress to insure she doesn’t hurt herself.


Even though everyone is watching her and she’s aware  of it, she exercises great restraint and refuses to acknowledge the existence of anyone in her presence.


Solipsism at it’s finest.


As she continued to writhe on that exercise machine and knowingly drove potential suitors to the brink of madness, something caught her attention.


A young man, barely of the age of what she guessed to be about twenty approached the machine next to her.  If he even weighed 100 pounds, it was probably soaking wet.  Acne was his most prominent feature, and present on his exposed arms, legs, and his face.  His bed head hair style looked as if it had just started to settle down.  The thickness of his glasses gave great insight on the extent of his myopia.


The sight of the young man completely baffled the beauty next to him.  Was he even strong enough to work the machine?  How could he even see through those glasses?  People like that were the ones her beefy boyfriends tormented in high school.


As the young man climbed on to his own machine, he noticed that the feature attraction at the gym that day was staring at him.


“Excuse me.” he said.  “I’m just here to work out and not meet anyone.  Would you mind not undressing me with your eyes?”


Within a matter of minutes, all of the would-be suitors of the aforementioned hootchie were now making dagger eyes at the newcomer as he negotiated simulated cross country skiing, oblivious to what he had just done.  They occasionally gawked at the empty machine next to him as well.


Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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