Negative Role Model

So this past week I was invited to join a really talented group of six writers at Conceited Crusade. I suspect it was because there are seven days in a week and they needed a day of rest. It is a potpourri of heartfelt stories, pondering, swearing, and eventually an awesome cat picture or two (those will be mine I’m sure). Join the following and put a little variety in your blog life. Once we (they) take over the writing world we are going to require it anyway. – Okay back to your regularly scheduled programming. –

Conceited Crusade

Sunday morning at the gym. Eminem is screaming in my ear but I’m still not entirely awake. The only people here are young men who look like Leonidas and old women who look like Gandalf. I take a seat at an empty bench after I grab my weights and stare at my reflection. The gym is the only place where it’s socially acceptable to look at yourself. I compare my lacking chest and round tummy and linger on my arms where stretches of muscle are visible. I look myself in the eyes a little too intensely and, honestly, if I wasn’t me I’d probably think I’d want to fuck me. Narcissistic teenage girls don’t look at themselves this long. Finally, I inhale, and up go the weights. After eight reps, the weights come back down and I review my reflection. Getting swole, I think they call it. I’d be swole…

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