Dear Barbie,
Since my workout sessions at the gym are so haphazard, I didn't realize that they changed the rules on me. It was only a few weeks ago that you can just walk right into the class. I wasn't aware that this particular teacher had a following and now it's mandatory to get a ticket to enter. I thank you for making space for me, because if you didn't, I'd drive myself back home and be pissed for the remainder of the night as I eat a dozen cupcakes to ease my anger.
I'm sure you could care less but making time to go to the gym takes a lot of time. Not only do I have to make sure I have someone to watch the kids, I have to start preparing hours in advance. I have to not only prepare the children's bags of various items, but I have to prepare myself mentally.
Please excuse me if you feel like the back of your neck is burning. It's only me admiring you. Even though I can tell you aren't a real blond, you somehow manage to work the bold, blond highlights. I like the way your toned arms don't flap the way mine do. If you don't mind me asking, what type of sports bra are you using? Somehow I feel the need to invest in a better one, so the girls look perky, like yours. Also, I'm in awe that your butt doesn't jiggle here and there the way mine does.
I also wanted to let you know I'm not giving you an evil stare. It's actually the sweat dripping in my eyes. It is causing me pain and I can't see the instructor. I'm squinting to lessen the burn and to focus on the teacher. Just to inform you, I'm not snarling at you either. I'm actually using some alpha-hydroxy pads that claim they can rejuvenate my skin and make me look younger. They cause my skin to be extremely sensitive to the acidic nature of my own perspiration.
Thank you once again,
MamaOnDaGo
PS After our workout, how would you like to get some cupcakes? If your diet doesn't allow for it, I'll eat your share and you can have my iced water with a wedge of lemon.
