Took my usual trip down to the neighborhood gym. I work hard at fighting gravity into my 30s. The place was standing room only, with one stubborn bitch on the middle treadmill. I have never seen her before and don't know her name, so for arguments sake we will just call her treadmill bitch. The room smelled of BO, an overworked air freshner, and determination. I would have run outside, but I had my baby daughter with me, and she is not crazy about snow flakes up her nose.
My friend "Susan" shot me a desperate look, and I was hoping that treadmill bitch would move to the machine closest to the wall so that my workout pal and I could do some gossiping. Of course, the only good thing to gossip about at this juncture was treadmill bitch. So, we did what any other self respecting woman would do, we yelled around her fat ass. But TB would not budge. Instead, she turned the channel to bitchy women on TV (The View was on) and turned the volume up so that each person's ear drums would quake in the noise. My daughter Sage got in on the action with a little crying. I felt like I was taking crazy pills. My friend "Susan" was more subtle and just took the remote and cranked down the volume.
The moral of the story? That it's important to have friends who have your back.