It Takes All Kinds…

(Contd. from ‘Transition…’)

So now I’m downstairs. I warm up. A stretch here a twist there. Boring stuff actually. Then go running. Once I come back, this is when the fun starts. Lady exiting the gate: Weighs roughly the same as a baby elephant with an ass which looks like it has a few slings supporting it. This is my question. WHY? Why does she have to wear clothes that tight? She definitely must be aware that she is an eye sore. She might be cracking a few mirrors every week. Do me a favour all you fat females out there, DO NOT wear spandex. Please spare my eyes from being FUBARed further.

Once I’m back from my run I’m generally using stuff around me for isometrics. In this brief span of time, I see that it indeed bloody takes all freakin’ kinds. First the fat women walking in the weirdest of clothes. At least I’m spared from further abuse to my eyes as not all of them wear spandex. It’s funny watching them. Full of grit and determination as they stride forward with smug looks at other people and me. Hah! I’m exercising. Soon I’m going to look like Elle McPherson. Excuse me? Do I make faces at you while I run? Or are you just trying to burn extra calories by scowling at me because you read somewhere that frowning utilizes more muscles?

Fat women, middle aged women trying to look cool and middle aged fat women who have accepted their fate and are now concentrating on annoying others. Where are the good-lookin’ and the hot women gone? I think I need to move. Actually if I wasn’t staying in this house alone and rent free I probably would have by now.

(Not exactly what I would call creative, but I like this feature. I might just make ‘It Takes All Kinds…’ a kind of irregular recurring feature. I have tons of people to complain about. I might just write on learning and women drivers next, along with the bane of human existence, women learners!)

Have a look at my world through the lens of a camera.
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