Kiss My Ass(ets)

A few weeks ago, when I was home in Troy, I went out for a very nice long walk. The sun was shining; it wasn't hot or humid (as it too often is this time of year); and the birds were chirping away in the sky. I was wearing my usual exercise-wear: black workout pants, tank top, tennis shoes, and-- only because I wanted to keep the sun out of my face-- a baseball cap.

As I walked down the street, lines for a poem floated in and out of my mind. I repeated them to myself, making an effort to remember them. I was rudely knocked out of my reverie when some dumb Joe Blow-- driving 60 mph down a 45 mph road shouted something out the window of his beat-up white pick-up. "NICE ASS!" he yelled.

I wondered briefly, of course, if he'd yelled at me. I've always felt that while I have an adequate figure that I do work some to maintain, my rear end is a little too wide and too flat-- and unclothed, I think it's worse. Well, I looked around, and saw no other walkers, so I concluded that, yes, that choice compliment had been reserved especially for me.

The fact that the man noticed my butt was testimony to the fact that one can see a difference in my body: the fact that I've been working out 4-5 days per week, pretty hard, since the beginning of May.

And yesterday at the gym, while walking on an incline of 1o on the treadmill, my marathon-running friend came over and said: "Your ass looks really awesome."

Positive reinforcement makes people vain. Especially this person.