Wow, I am totally out of my league here. As I walk the kids to school in the morning I’m passed by quaffed mothers in designer skirt suits and hosiery, carrying parasols, makeup perfect. And there’s me, huffing up the hill in my sweats, hair unbrushed, soggy and red faced in the heat and humidity I’ve yet to become accustomed to. I wear worn tennis shoes in contradiction to their stilettos. I carry lunch bags as opposed to Louis Vuitton. I sweat- a lot.
If my kids CAN kick it from the stroller it means they probably WILL kick it from the stroller; this includes walls, doors, chairs and butts. I’m sorry, ‘sumimasen’. I ask them to keep their feet to themselves. I don’t encourage it, they’ve been punished but as they sit restless in that push chair it’s like they just HAVE to touch your butt with their feet…sigh.
And then the kids are off playing with their friends and I head to the gym. I read over my day’s instructions that include a 5 minute power walking warm-up, um no, I think we’ll skip that after the 173 steps I have to ascend to even get to the entrance of the building that houses the fitness center. I pray I meet no one in the elevator and am relieved when its empty, I leap in and give into my exertion sucking wind like I just finished a marathon. I stretch in the air conditioned high rise and sip blissfully cold water from the cooler, I admire the view as I begin my circuit…and then the Statue of David enters the gym and signs in…nope, I don’t have it in me. He’s just too svelt for me to continue and I cease the undulation I call a core workout, I stick my tail between my legs, gulp one last cup of water, hide the tattoos under my baggy sweatshirt and head back out to the heat.
On the street I’m met by a sea of black suits and man purses. I’m glad to see some of them sweat, it’s damn hot and steamy after a week of rain (and more on the way from the looks of it) but I sweat more, it’s rolling down my back and beading at my temples. I’m thankful my hoodie zips as I catch of glimpse of the copious amounts of boob sweat, the stain spreading across my chest like the dinner scene in ‘Alien’.
I duck into the grocer, drying myself over the frozen vegetables and tempura and as I emerge with my energy drink and gel my glasses fog, great, now I’m blind too. The traffic signal changes and I meet the eyes of the oncoming deluge of suits, a dangerous game of chicken ensues but I manage to hold my ground and emerge on the other side of the intersection unscathed. Up one more hill and I’m home but the doorman is frustrated with me for requesting a gym pass while he was helping another tenant and makes me wait before he’s obliged to press the door button so that I may enter.
It was a long morning…
Maybe I’ll put on some makeup and heels for when I pick up the kids this afternoon…probably not.