Glittery Matte

Today promised to be one of those days. You know the ones. You bounce out of bed ahead of your alarm clock, slip into your workout clothes, grab a bottle of water and a protein bar and hit the road. You pull into the gym parking lot and get the closest spot possible without being in the handicap space, breeze through the front door and find the best treadmill in the cardio section open and waiting for you. After an amazing calorie-burning session, you hop off the treadmill and gingerly wipe your forehead with a towel passing by a mirrored wall and thinking to yourself, "Wow! I look pretty good for someone that just ran her fastest 3 miles yet!" The water in the shower is hot for a change. Your shampoo and conditioner seem to make your hair feel like silk. The body wash you lavish yourself with takes you somewhere between a tropical rain forest and a flower garden. Your hair is having a "good day" under the blow dryer and round brush. Make up goes on flawlessly and at your desk your boss not only compliments you on the way you smell but also on the email you sent to him with the answers to all of his questions.

Yeah....Not so much. Let's see; my alarm didn't go off (stupid BB). I tripped over my workout clothes almost breaking my ankle. The only kind of bar left to grab in the pantry was a graham cracker smores flavor (your least favorite) and you promptly got about a mile down the road before you realize you forgot to even grab a water. By the time you get to the base gym every single parking spot is taken. You end up driving around the lot waiting for someone, anyone to leave. It doesn't happen, so you decide to drive to the smaller gym down the street. Once inside the place is crowded but you spot an open treadmill. As you start to get into your pace you begin to notice a certain ... smell. Garbage? Sewer leak? Someone farted? Glancing next to you, huffing and puffing like he's on death's door is a blob of a man. He is drenched in sweat. His grey sleeveless shirt is soaked. His headband (yes, I said headband) is not doing a very good job of keeping the sweat from pouring down his face. He's the source of the smell. Either he is a sewer worker that just got off work and accidently slipped into a pile of garbage and has terrible gas or this man has a serious ... er, problem. After about ten minutes you realize that's quite enough and decide to call it a "workout". The shower is ice cold. You forgot to bring in conditioner and the body wash you have smells less like a tropical garden or more like a cheap air freshner. Flat. That's how your hair looks and because you can't see well in the lights over the sinks your makeup makes you look pale.

And yeah, the compliment from your boss wasn't there either. He showed up minutes before a meeting and the only thing he managed to say was, "Thank God you made coffee."

Somehow from that point on the day just seemed to flatten out. Lunch was ho-hum. Music on the IPod was just so-so. Even the Marines were rather quiet and non entertaining. We can only hope tomorrow is a better day.

SONG OF THE BLOG: "Just Another Day" by Depeche Mode