The Gym, The Hotel and The Mood

I was going to write a post about that bitch in the locker room of the gym this morning, because she pissed me off and because I, apparently, woke up in one of those moods (again). But I've got a freaking headache and, even though I'm really ticked off about a few things, I just don't have the energy to be articulately bitchy.

Wait. Maybe I do.

This morning, I was in the gym locker room, and I was walking out of the shower area back to the locker area. I had my Big Ass towel wrapped around me (because WineDog said I can't wander around naked), and all my stuff clutched to my chest, like I usually do. Of course, usually I don't have an audience, but, whatever, it's not like I'm shy. There was a woman standing in front of one of the mirrors in the locker area, chatting with the other woman she had come with. And then she glanced up and saw me coming out from the shower area and this look crossed her face, and I'm sure many of you reading this will understand exactly what kind of look I'm talking about. It's that look that's just shy of an involuntary lip curl and kind of makes you want to put your fist into something and maybe that something is the lip curler's nose.

And, you know. I'm not an idiot. I know I don't look much like I belong in a gym. I definitely don't have the physique of a gym rat, so I can see how some people might pass judgement based on that.

But you know what?

I'm not here for you. I'm not here for you or your small-minded opinion of me.

I couldn't give two shits less what you think of me.

Further, I may be the Fat Girl on the block, but I'm up in that gym more mornings than I'm not, honey, and this is the very first time I've seen your skinny, cranky, judgmental ass, so I suggest you stow your bullshit or the Fat Girl is going to call your ass out on the carpet in front of all the Big, Buff Gym Rats that know how often I'm there.

I'm not letting your ignorant ass ruin this thing for me. It's for me, not you, and you can keep your dirty looks to  yourself because all that does is make me feel more like making you uncomfortable.

+whew+

Yes, so I told you I was in a mood today.

Later this week, I'm heading into The City with some coworkers for two days of a Big Meeting. We're staying in a pretty swank hotel because we got a good deal. That's awesome and all, but it's not like we'll even be in our rooms that long, so it doesn't really matter.

Not that I mind. I guess I shouldn't complain. My favorite thing about travelling for work has been that we've stayed in fairly nice hotels, so far, and I just love love love staying in nice hotels, with big, puffy beds and luxurious bedding. And I'd be perfectly happy ordering in room service and spending two days snuggled in bed watching tv.

No, really, I love hotels. I think part of the reason I don't consider travel a priority for our budget is just because I love hotels so much it becomes this balancing act. Where ever we go, we have to stay long enough to have plenty of hotel time, but also be able to actually get out & about where we are, too. Some people can visit for the weekend. I need three or four nights.

It gets a little more expensive.

So, anyway, I'm going to be in The City for two nights, and my first thought, of course, is ohmygawd, do you have any idea how many people I know who live in the Bay Area? A lot, let me tell you.

And I totally want to see them all, but, then, I'm there on business, so that kind of limits my "play time" and that makes me really want to just send everyone a message that says "Party in my room!" and I'm just not sure how well that would go over.

But the super fancy hotel does have a fitness center, with actual fitness classes, which is pretty damn awesome, really, except that they don't seem to have a beginner's yoga class at a time when I'm not in a meeting but that's ok because I'm there for work, right? So all I really need is what I usually use. Right?

Yeah.

Something like that.