Yesterday was the first time in three years something more interesting than a pulled muscle happened to me at the gym.

It started a few weeks ago when I first noticed that one of the girls I attended a weekly Pilate’s class with just stopped showing up. I noticed her because she was one of the few women at my all-women’s gym that wasn’t overweight, age 50, or attending an intense core workout class clad in a flowery pink moo-moo.

I have to admit, I had grown to envy this girl’s beauty, mostly because she looked so different than me. She was a beautiful Asian girl with pin straight black hair, exotic dark eyes and a perfectly even skin tone; no fake bake orange or burning fluorescent tanning beds required.

She had never missed a class before. So I knew something was up.
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