Category Archives: treadmill
For those of you who have been following the Fat Lady series for a while, I apologize for taking so long between posts. I post when I feel compelled to, and it’s been quite some time since I felt there was something I just had to relate to you. For those of you who are joining me for the first time, welcome! This is a new location for the Fat Lady series. If you want to catch up, the older posts are available on my alter ego’s blog www.yourfavoritepaperbackwriter.blogspot.com.
In review…women do not sweat. Women might perspire, but that manifests as a dew on the skin and is not mentioned in polite society. If you are surprised by this, then you did not grow up in the southern United States. It is a well known fact there.
Men sweat. But let’s be real. There are different kinds of man sweat.
First, there is what I like to call Construction Worker Sweat. This is the kind generated by good ‘ole honest hard labor. Whether it’s your hubby building that new patio cover you asked for, or a guy in an orange vest with a jackhammer, or the guy with the chain saw removing that downed tree, it’s attractive. Women like to see a guy flexing his muscles and working up a sweat in the process. It makes us think of other ways our guy could work up a sweat.
Next, there’s Athlete Sweat. What’s not to like about a sweaty athlete? Picture the well toned body of a tennis player, the lean muscles of a runner, the brawn of a weight lifter. Now picture those lovely muscles covered in sweat. Uh huh. You get the idea. It’s hot. Women like to see a guy pit his body against nature. We’ll pretend interest in just about any game to see a hot guy wipe sweat out of his eyes with the hem of his shirt, or better yet, rip that shirt off and use it as a towel.
That brings me to Sex Sweat, which we all know is the best kind of all. If you’re lucky, it combines the best of Construction Worker Sweat and Athlete Sweat. Your guy employs the raw, macho strength of a construction worker with the endurance and dedication of an athlete to work up a nice sweat in pursuit of your pleasure before his. This type of sweat enables body parts to slide easily against each other, and in so doing, increases pleasure for all concerned. This is a good thing.
Last on my list is Butt Sweat. There is nothing worse. Let me give you an example. Today, I waited patiently for a guy to finish on the ab cruncher machine so I could have a turn at it too. We won’t discuss why I need to use this particular type of machine, or the fact that this guy needed to use a treadmill more than he needed the ab machine. Trust me – no one is going to see that guys abs for a while yet. Okay, I’ll get back to the story. The guy finally heaved himself off the seat and waddled off. I made my move before someone else could beat me to the machine. And then I nearly gagged. The seat was covered in butt sweat.
It was a dilemma. I wasn’t about to sit in someone else’s butt sweat, and I wasn’t going to use my personal towel to wipe it up. A vision of then removing dew from my forehead with a towel damp with gross guy’s butt sweat was enough to make me sick. I looked around for a paper towel dispenser, but there wasn’t one anywhere near, and if there was, I’d need rubber gloves to use them. No way would I risk soak through getting on my hands. The pit across town that charges four times what I pay, but has someone walking around handing out clean towels, was looking pretty good. I could reduce my grocery budget to make up for the price difference. It wouldn’t hurt me to eat less. I probably wouldn’t need the pit or the ab cruncher if I’d do that anyway.
Needless to say, I skipped the ab cruncher. Over the next hour, several people approached, scrunched up their noses, and moved on. The guy might as well have put a sign on the thing that said, warning, seat is coated with creepy skin eating bacteria, for all the use it got.
I’m not sure I’ll be using that particular machine anytime in the near future. As a matter of fact, I’m considering carrying a spray bottle of disinfectant, paper towels, and rubber gloves from now on. Maybe I’ll even get one of those surgical masks and a hazmat suit. I might look a bit strange, but at least I’d be keeping my dew to myself.
So, I leave you with a word I have mentioned before in another context. Towels.
Happy workout to you, and take a towel or two next time you go to the pit.