Some new lady in class has messed up the whole system. She took Debbie's spot and Debbie took my spot and I ended up in the back row, sort of, squeezed in too close to the girls that I don't like although I have no good reason for the dislike, except that I covet their implants. A little.
So, I spend the whole class looking at new bums.
I am used to the old bums.
Note: I can go so far as to say that the old bums were my favorites.
I am trying not to look at the bums.
One is a Mom-Bum, for sure. It is flat, wide and saggy in its exercise wear, yes. I worry that my bum looks like that Mom-Bum. I look away. At another bum.
This bum is bubbly and perky and has a perma-wedgie in its exercise gear. I want, badly, to walk over and give the pants a good yank to remove the wedgie, but such behavior in a pilates class is frowned upon.
I am tired of this whole bum-thing. I can't wait to get back to my spot. Where I belong. This situation is really bumming me out.
Heck, yes!
1 comment:
Your bum doesn't look like either of those! Not that I check out my MIL...awkward.
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