Gone are the days of clothes that dangled from my waistline. Gone are the days of tight racy mid riffs. Gone are the days of tight spandex hoochie mama dresses. Gone are the days when apparel swayed on my body. I bid you adieu my fair weather friend. It has been pleasant, so I'll see you in my dreams. Yeh right! Put up your dukes fat cells! Shellie Kitchen is coming at you with a one two combo sprinkled with some plain and simple crazy!
For the past three days, I've been biking to work. I was not trying to be green and be considerate of the environment. I didn't take up the bike, because of the price gouging on gas. Perhaps, a little had to do with catching the Third Street bus and all the germ infested public transportation snuff. I thought why not?
I thought I was a guru in the cardio department. Smirk. Not until the grand Potrero Hills put a tight hold on my hamstrings and lungs. To make it worse, I look like a total geek, parading in my suit pants with my make shift Prada backpack and my white helmet. Nerd alert! Moreover, I have a white hair tie that cuffs my left leg to prevent myself from getting caught in the crank. Super fashion to the rescue. Honestly, I am happy as a clam being a dork when friends are not evident, it's fun. If a culinary dish symbolized my mental state, I would be spawn of spam.
On the other hand, my biking skills are horrid. I am the the flat route seeker. I would rather ride ten extra blocks to avoid a smidge of a hill. Since we live on this hellcat hill, my ride home is a beast. Not only is the wind my foe, but I have to push the darn bike up two steep hills. I'm sweaty. It's awkward. My thighs are a quivering mess as I hyperventilate. Push you say? Yes, push, ear dome! As I fumble around trying to establish the appropriate gear, I'm just out of effort. Yes, I'm on the most wanted list with the retard patrol. The sirens are blaring!
Lesson: A celebrated Grasshopper teaches himself how to swim.
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