I’ve seen you at the gym, when both of us are sweaty and breathless.
Every time, I smile inside. I know you don’t feel beautiful – who could with hair sweat-plastered to your neck, face red with exertion, and sometimes the day’s eye makeup smudged into an old-school heroine chic look? – but as I pass by, I am always, ALWAYS stunned by your visage.
You’re curvy. Sometimes overweight. Sometimes a bit heavy. Zaftig. At times, outright obese. And there you are, perspiration-soaked shirt, working your ass off to get, or stay, healthy.
And it doesn’t matter what size you are, THAT is sexy as hell.
I never seek your attention. I don’t want to scare you away by letting you know I see you, in all your wet, panting glory, because you might become self-conscious. You might stop doing what you’re doing.
That would be counter-productive.
So no, I’ll probably never chat you up, not even in the locker room. I don’t want you to lose sight of your workout, because that’s all that matters. Not me, not anyone else in the gym; just you, your headphones, and your heart rate.
I don’t want you to realize anyone is watching, because that knowledge might lead you to give up. Instead, I wander past and think to myself “Strong work!” or “Don’t stop now!” or “YOU GO, GIRL!”
I hope you don’t think I’m crushin’ on you in particular. I always crush on women who take charge of their lives, their bodies, and their health. So don’t mind me, you sexy thang. Keep going.
Never give up! Never surrender!