NEVER MIND THE GAP

NEVER MIND THE GAP

4/11/13

 

As my workouts rolled onward, I gradually felt better. Not quite as sluggish. A little cockier. Slightly stronger and a lot more sore. But then a strange thing happened…I started to obsess about the quest for a thigh gap.

Now, a thigh gap is a touchy subject (Ha ha, couldn’t resist) for a fluffy girl. It’s something that occurs naturally for most ‘Pretty Girls’ but honestly, I have never in my life had one. Never. Not even when I was ten and a total tomboy, slim as a whip, running wild through the suburban splendor of The OC . *And yes, I grew up in Orange County…so now you know the true source of my angst. Thank you for caring!*

But what’s a thigh gap you ask? It’s the absence of flesh at the top and between your thighs. According to society standards (And every Barbie doll I’ve ever seen) women are supposed to see daylight in between their legs. Um, all I’ve ever seen is soft, pale flesh smooshed together in one white, round lump. Kinda like a giant spoonful of marshmallow fluff.

And, aside from the esthetics, for those of us without a gap it really is kinda a problem. We suffer from chaffing, rubbing and the horrors of all our pants (Especially sweats) getting worn out between our thighs long before anything else. It’s definitely a #firstworldproblem but I still wish there was a twelve step program or support group hotline or somebody I could call when I had a really frustrating moment dealing with it. Maybe Sting could put together a telethon for all us non-gap girls to bring awareness to the situation? Well, it’s either that or a Tumblr page.

Anyway, now that I was fully immersed in my PG program, I found myself noticing other women at the gym who had this thigh gap and would instantly become insanely jealous. I’d be slogging through twenty minutes on the elliptical when I’d see a skinny girl in Lycra pass by and my inner voice would start shrieking, “Oh my God, look at her gap. That’s amazing. I bet she works out like, three hours a day, only drinks hot water with lemon and can wear junior sizes in everything!”

It was like the more I tried to improve myself, the more I found fault with myself. And the thigh gap was just the tip of the iceberg…so to speak.

But don’t worry. This is no ‘thinspiration’ blog or anything…I’ve made my choice. I’m all about being healthy and fitness not deprivation. I want to be taken seriously as a pretty girl but I’m not willing to starve myself to do it. So, a thigh gap just might be unattainable for someone built like me and I will just have to learn to live with it…sweatpants be dammed!

But building muscles and toning up? That I could definitely do. So the workouts continue…and so does the absurdity I call my dating life.  

Tuesday night was no exception. It started out pretty typically. I had hit the treadmill hard and run a mile (RUN NOT WALKED! AN ENTIRE MILE! WHY AM I TEXT SHOUTING?! Because I’M EXCITED people, this is a big spanking deal!) all by myself for the very first time.

High on brain chemicals and delusions of fitness grandeur I sauntered like I was in a JAY-Z video all the way* to County Market a local grocery store to stock up on more protein bars and veggie shakes (Yes. I have totally become that person now). Annnnd…that’s when a random dude named Mike approached me. *(Confession, it was located right next door)

I seriously have some kind of secret signal that goes off when I enter a grocery store. Usually it’s right after I work out. I must seem extra approachable or extremely lickable (I actually meant to type likeable but what the hell lickable works too) or something.

Let me just break this down for you, shall I? Mike was a good-looking, black man, mid-thirties, seemingly normal from afar until I got closer and noticed he was a hot mess wrapped up in a giant RED FLAG! He was wearing a dirty blue sweater with holes in it and a wooly knit cap that had seen better days. Was that straw stuck on his hair? WTF? He looked me over and shouted out a loud, “Damm, girl” as I cruised through the frozen food aisle.

Confused, I stopped, looked around and gave him my best Robert De Niro impression. “Are you talking to me?” “Yeah, I’m talking to you baby” he smiled across a row of frozen lasagna, “Whatcha doing? Is this your store? You shop here? I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Uh, yeah, I come here sometimes after working out” I offered. “Ok, cool, cool. You’re sexy.” He leered as he checked out my ass. “I’m Mike. I wanna call you…can I get your number?”

And this is where things progressed from strange to really weird. Now, don’t get the wrong idea, I’m totally down with the swirl, what I’m not down with is hobo dating because while I clearly have issues I do have standards so I tried to politely decline his offer as gently as possible. “Um, I can’t give you my phone number…but, I…” (And this is where my relentless people pleasing disease kicked in with a vengeance) “I can give you my email.” What??! My email? Now I’m the weirdo. Who gives out their email to some random dude who wants to hit it from the back before he rambles home to his collection of cardboard and dirty blankets under the freeway underpass? I am totally ridiculous sometimes. Luckily, he was kinda deaf.

“Oh, you’re married?” He looked concerned. Apparently he had standards too.  “No, email.” I clarified. “I can give you my email.” Why didn’t I say I was married? That was an easy out. Idiot!  His face was blank but I kept going like the dork I am. “Um, no, no, my email.” There was no recognition at all. Nothing. Zero. “Email?” I tried again. “ Like…” (Typing type hand movements) “Clickity-clack…you know…like on the computer?”

“Oh, the computer?” He finally got it. “Yeah, no…I don’t know any computer stuff. I don’t have one. I don’t know the email.”

The email. I stared at him, momentarily confused. He did not know how to use a computer. Now, I knew, of course that there must be some people on the planet who did not. But they are usually well over the age of sixty. Or they live in a cave or in the middle of The Amazon Rainforest. I on the other hand, live in a middle class world where even second graders get IPADs for Christmas. I’m not being snotty about this. Obviously I understand not having fundage for a computer. However, the library is free and its chock full of peeps who don’t actually own a computer but even they know how to use one!

The irony of the situation was not lost on me.  I really have no business whatsoever even talking to a dude who can’t use a computer…when I am professional writer for Gods sake! I was momentarily distracted beating myself up for this when I suddenly realized that he had given me yet another brilliant out. “Oh, too bad…well, it was nice meeting you Mike” I started to sneak away towards the safety of the Dairy section.

But he was persistent. I gotta give him points for that. “I’m gonna look for you every time I’m here and Ima gonna call you when I get my phone back.” He declared.

Get your phone back? What? Why don’t you have it? What happened? Was it on layaway? Or worse…at a pawn shop? Oh, hell no! This is not my future husband. "Walk away, walk away right now!” I told myself.

So, I just started smiling and nodding my head as I crept towards the comfort of yogurt and butter. “As soon as I get it back, Ima call you!” “Ok, you do that Mike. Bye now!” I shouted, hoping that my cheery face was covering up the panic in my voice.

I should have just left the store right then but I kept shopping. So, that means that…you got it! I kept running into him. Over & over. Twice more I ran into him and both times he kept reassuring me, “I’m going to call you! As soon as I get my phone back…I am calling you for sure!” Weary and disoriented by the whole interaction I actually found myself giving him a thumbs-up at one point, as if to say, “Good job! That sounds like a plan, mister!”

My swagger was clearly gone. I needed to check out and take my sexy sweatiness home before I did any more permanent damage to my psyche.

Clearly the thigh gap wasn’t the only thing I had to worry about. The actual gap between the type of men I should be dating and the guys I was actually attracting was appalling. It’s as if I was God’s own private little joke. Ha Ha God, sooo funny! Hope you enjoyed that!

In more encouraging news…I am actually racking up some pretty girl discounts! I know…how great is that? Granted, they are just small timey ones but still…I got a 10% discount on a puppy beaded bookmark (for my mom thank you very much, I’m not twelve. But apparently I think she is.)  and a book on juicing at Barnes & Noble. I got an extra espresso shot for free plus some really cute swirly designs on my latte at Pekara Bakery “Just because” and I was bumped to the front of the line at Forever 21 and given a student discount…even though I’m not actually a student! Sweet!

Baby steps people, baby steps. Now I just got to work on upgrading my men…so, yup…I finally bit the bullet, swallowed my pride and signed up for online dating.

And… it’s already hella weird. So stay tuned for my next post...it’s gonna be epic!