High-Five With Your Pelvis: Part I

I feel the need to apologize for my brief hiatus, especially since my posts have been somewhat consistent since starting this blog. However, I have a very good excuse for my absence.

I was on tour with a very prestigious band, and I was too busy partying and singing songs about mislead youth.

And by all of that, I mean I was at the beach.

Let’s recap. Before I begin, though, I feel the urge to tell you all about my Audubon Park experience last Wednesday.

For those of you who know me, you know that I like to exercise and eat a (somewhat) healthy diet. Trust me when I say that if I could eat pizza, donuts and drink beer all day everyday and look like Emma Stone, I would. Alas, I am German, and we like to expand in the hip region, so, bring on the kale and pilates.

Anyways, I was at Audubon Park the other day after a grueling shift at work, so all I really wanted to do was run it out. When I arrived, I noticed two girls and a dude working out in the grassy part in the middle of the running track. Because I’m nosy, I stationed myself somewhat close to them so I could listen to their conversations while I stretched. Turns out, this dude was a personal trainer, and this was their first training session. Let the entertainment commence.

*Side note: Why do girls think it’s cute to be like, “Oh my god, owwwwww. Owwie!” while simultaneously batting your mascara-laden eyelashes at anything with a you-know-what while working out? A tip from me to you: chances are, a dude who works out and takes care of his hawt bod will want a life partner who also works out and takes care of their hawt bod, aka someone who doesn’t gripe while doing A CRUNCH. Suck it up, ladies (and maybe gents), and put your game face on. I mean damn.

So the personal trainer was having the girls do super sets of body weight exercises and having them sprint occasionally, and they were all, “Like, oh my god. This seriously burns. Like, stop. Staaahhhhp it.” Bish, you ran .2 miles. Get real.

I finally got bored with the trainer and the two valley girls, because there’s only so many giggles and “KAH-WIT!”s I can take, and decided to get my workout over and done with. A lap around the 1.8 mile track with some strength training thrown in there, and I was ready to call it a day.

It was a beautiful run, despite the scorching temperatures and the serial killer driving the golf cart. I won’t get into that. No need to bring up evil on the Sabbath day. I also ran through a spider web and swallowed a mosquito, so that was a thing.

As I was walking back to my car to grab my water, I noticed, through a waterfall of face sweat, a woman doing weird things on a yoga mat. Typically, one would shy away from finding out what was going on here, but, as I mentioned before, I’m nosy, so my curiosity got the best of me.

I decided to hang around and watch this woman whilst hydrating. First things first, she was wearing a sports bra and booty shorts and was in her 40s. I’ll just let that linger on your minds for a bit… She was doing side planks, squats, and tricep dips, but, for some reason, she kept staring over her right shoulder and into the distance. Then she would move onto another exercise.

At first, I thought she was just paranoid that someone was staring at her out of outfit envy, because, who wouldn’t… envy… hot pink spandex? But I was wrong. What she was doing was so much better. Genius, even.

This woman, this 40-something, borderline-naked woman, was peeping on that personal training session and doing every. single. exercise hawt bod don’t-take-no-shit personal trainer was instructing the girls to do.


Once I realized this, I parked my butt on the hood of my car and just enjoyed the completely free (just like her workout!) afternoon entertainment. What was even better was that her daughter was big chillin’ on a blanket next to her and staring at her iPhone. Speaking of mislead youth.

I honestly couldn’t believe it. It was the most ridiculous thing I had seen all day, but also the most amazing. It reminded me of that scene from Bridesmaids. But better. Because it was real. I also thought, “Lena Dunham needs to do exactly this on Girls.” Day made.

The personal trainer didn’t end up noticing, and the lady didn’t notice me either, which kind of made me feel like Harriet the Spy, minus the cool notebook and yellow jacket. But we both have brown hair, so it’s basically still the same.

I’ll be back with a weekend recap later! It’s time for me to go aloe my sunburn/eat steak/watch the Tony awards. You know, the usual Sunday night things.

Talk to y’all soon!



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