Training!!
That thing I do when I’m not working, avoiding homework, or recovering from a hangover.
If I could get used to the looks I get when I’m doing pull throughs it would make it a lot easier. I laugh when I see people looking at me like they’re watching caterpillars fuck.
For this particular workout, I use the cable machine for each of the first 2 sets, and right before I started the second set, two youngish, scrawny, just hit their growth spurt but before they found their first facial hair kids jumped in.
A guy I see there on a semi regular basis, whom I will refer to as Barney, began to laugh and shake his head, and reminded me that killing people on Sundays is worse than the other six days. I said, “I’m not gonna kill them yet, I’m tryin to figure out if they’re doing tricep pushdowns or hip thrusters. I can’t get mad at this, it’s too fucking funny.” I know these boys heard me, because they made eye contact, but they said nothing. Nor did they move.
Which was fine with me, because then Barney started asking me about powerlifting competitions. He thinks he might want to do one, and at least wants to go watch one. (no, kimba, Barney is unfuckable.) When he asked what I would want my total to be if I competed and I said 700+, those two little boys who were still in the area stopped what they were doing and walked away.
grneyes- ok seriously tho sizes in general piss me off most of the time. store to store, style to style… I’m a painfully low maintenance woman when it comes to that shit and I generally hate shopping unless I’m buying more of the same because I loathe the circus involved with trying on clothes. I have to take 3 sizes of pants back at a time, and at least 2 sizes of shirts.
I’m so sticking to my uniform of jeans and a black shirt for as long as humanly possible.