I'm married at the gym

  My friend and I joined a gym. Me, for obvious reasons. I think she just wants to get into better shape. She's slender and a classic beauty who doesn't need a minute at the gym. We probably look like Laurel & Hardy when we enter. 

  Today was our second day, but I have a routine down. I do thirty minutes of cardio and thirty minutes of weight training. As I sat doing my thirty minutes on the bike, I noticed the popularity of the bike beside me. There's about a line of seven of these bikes. Plenty of personal space for all. So, why two different old men had to park it right beside me I'll never know. The first smelled like he fell down in a vat of IcyHot. The second freaking sang to himself the whole time. I'm trying to listen to Joe Rogan and read some Buzzfeed. Listen, gents, I know what you're up to. I only get hit on by old men, so I know their games. It's gross. I wear my wedding ring on my right hand. It's going to get switched to my left when these geezers are around. There are some hot guys there, but none looking my way. Story of my life. 

  Today the bike told me my weight. Thanks, bike. I needed to know that I'm ten pounds heavier than I thought I was. Instead, a punching glove should've extended from a secret compartment and punched me in the gut. I'm there and doing the work, so I guess it's the first step. I think it's boosting my metabolism because I feel like eating all of the food all of the time. Maybe in a month, I'll see some results.