Workout Lady

You.

Yes, you.

Lady in the peach athletic tank top and clearly unsupportive, non-athletic bra bouncing around anti-rhythmically in front of me. Making a significant and voluptous mockery of cross, cross, hook, knee, jab, cross.

You're killing me.

While I am glad you're here in Jada's cardio-kickboxing really following through on your '09 New Year's Resolution, getting healthy and all. . . you are a hopeless flailing mess. I believe in you and I honor your pursuit of a healthy lifestyle. No doubt you'll reward yourself with a tasty cup of sugar free pudding after an appropriately portioned dinner of brown rice and veggies, just like me. No doubt you'll leave class sweaty and self-satisfied, all full of that "can do" attitude that pounds the fat tissue out of the blubbery cast of "The Biggest Loser."

No doubt, I'd love to accidentally kick you in the head.

Please oh please, workout lady. Stay in your personal space. Get ON beat. And wear a bra that will hold your out of control mammaries.

Thanks.