Anytime Fitness with Bubbles
Aging & Attitude
Bubbles was at the gym today decked out in a hot pink workout suit, purple Merrells, a bubblegum glitter headband, and acrylic nails. She wore a scooped neck designer tee-shirt over a sports bra. Sweat covered her forehead. When she got off the treadmill, a bead of perspiration trickled down her face, dribbled over her wrinkled neck to nestle in some serious cleavage. The bra was working overtime to support the girls.
Bubbles got my attention with her giggles and girlfriends a few months ago. All four of them were working out in a fun way, encouraging each other and laughing at their lack of grace. They called her Bubbles, but she looked like a Mary Jane. Clearly, these senior ladies were the bikini clad in crowd from my past. I guess all had steadies and made the cheerleading squad in High School. I was the cheerleader advisor and my teenage nickname was ClaudieMay.
When Bubbles plopped on an abs machine I jumped on the chest press next store, hoping to hear her story and wondering, if I said, “Hi, I’m ClaudieMay.” Would she say, “I’m Bubbles.”
I can complete three repetitions of twelve, using twenty-five pounds, without grunting. My goal is to not wear a bra. I take that back, my goal is to be comfortable wearing, or not wearing one. Women understand. Either way is uncomfortable now, and I wonder constantly about a heart attack, the band feels so tight.
Back to Bubbles, it does not make me feel better that she is thirty to forty pounds overweight and has muffin-top. Probably, she does not see the extra pounds and wrinkles in her mirror.
I want her magic looking-glass attitude; giggle to your sides hurt and wet your pants experiences. I could be bubbly with practice.
The pounds I lose during the week come back on the weekend and consequently, Mondays, I have to start losing the same few again and my mirrors reflect deep lines and wrinkles, not funny. (I am considering abstaining from cookies and wine on the weekends, also.)
I pass Mall windows and remark, “That old person looks so familiar, I feel like I know her,” to discover it is me.
The mind does not consider age. Bubbles clearly thinks she is sixteen. I have no desire to be sixteen and cheerleader advisor again. Hopefully, Bubbles is wise enough to know not to do splits.