Some of you might not even notice a problem with the above photo, some of you may think I am referring to the gym's poor choice of Berber, or perhaps my swollen ankles, man-leg, ghostly palor and/or totally uncool capri sweatpants. Alas, while none of that is incorrect, I am having the kind of day where I pack two different sneakers to wear at the gym. Different brands, different colors entirely. Which I'm sure only the fruitiest of you *cough* you know who you are *cough* can tell from that overexposed phonecam pic. So of course there was a pivotal point in the ladies locker room, when I discovered the footwear faux pas, and I had to decide whether to bag the workout and slink home to sit on the couch and watch House reruns while eating meatballs in my workout gear, or to zip up, chin up, and proceed to get my cardio in under the watchful eyes of the sweaty and judgemental shoppers at the Sport & Health meatmarket. I eventually decided "fuck it" (a phrase, unlike "suck", that I vow will never ever even consider ousting from my vocabulary), accidentally cursing an elderly Korean woman in a wayyyy too small towel, and went ahead and exited the locker room, my Asic atrocity in clear view of one and all. Afterall, I have a trophy to maintain. Turns out it was one of those days when just when you think it can't get any worse, you accomplish new physical thresholds of misery. An hour and 731 calories later, my mismatched sneakers and I had gone twice as far on the stair
That's all, just ... booya.