Gymbo

Gymbo
Originally uploaded by Tokyorosa

That's a crappy cell phone photo of the upstairs part of the gym. That's the trainer who I think is kind of a dummy. He turned around to examine me as I was about to take his photo, so I pretended to be sending a text message. When he turned back around, I took this photo. He's having his breakfast. His breakfast consisted of something that required a lot of lip smacking to consume and a gallon of water.

I was at the gym this morning because Lu and I had a training session with the elfin, zero-percent body-fat trainer, Dorine. I think Dorine rocks, but it's very clear that she has much, much more discipline than I do. I made some comment about donuts this morning and Dorine got a disgusted look on her face and said that she couldn't eat donuts anymore because they just coated the inside of her mouth with grease. It's clear that she hasn't eaten a donut in many moons because she doesn't seem to remember that one of the guiltiest pleasures of a donut is the greasy coating it leaves in your mouth. (See also: fried chicken, french fries, fried okra, fried cheese, jalapeno poppers, churros, and, well, anything fried.)

Mostly I make comments like that just so I can watch Dorine's response. At our last session, I made some comment about PopTarts, how they make a great pre-workout breakfast. I was kidding of course, but it prompted Dorine to say that her pre-workout breakfast was steel-cut oats topped with fresh strawberries and the blood of virgins. Or something. I forget. (That morning, says my food diary, my breakfast consisted of a Quorn patty, steamed broccoli, and blueberries. So there.)

Anyway, the truth is that I actually haven't eaten a donut since last October, when one of the Japanese was here and we stopped at Dunkin' Donuts on our way to Taos. That's one long, dry, donut-less spell.