“Keep walking you fat mole”

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So one of the things that I am trying to be consistant with is eating carbs. I find this very easy. To counteract the carbs, I am also trying to exercise for at least 20 minutes a day as I continue to try and discover the much discussed, but yet still missing endorphins that do along with such activity. Apparently.

I donned my Lorna Jane Pants of Power (in bright fluro orange because I like subtlety) grabbed the Woogettes and off we went. A mate of mine Tori, suggested I download this AP called Couch to 5K’s which is supposed to turn you into a long distance runner without you even realising it. So I delivered the kids to their tennis lesson and turned it on. A lady told me to walk briskly and after 5 minutes, she told me to jog for one whole minute. ONE WHOLE MINUTE.

So I told her to fuck off and turned off the phone. That wasn’t a glorious success. But the sun was shining and the birds were singing so I took to the streets in my pants of power and walked and walked and walked until I resembled a beetroot. A sweaty beetroot encased in lycra. I must have been a sight for sore eyes, because as I stopped at the lights to cross a main road when a car with P plates went by.

“Keep walking you fat mole!” the teenaged boys yelled at me.

I felt like yelling back “I used to be heaps fatter! I AM TRYING NOT TO BE A FAT MOLE!” But I was speechless. Cars of teenagers are scary if you ask me. It reminded me of the time I was walking in Centennial Park with my friend Sawhole and a car went passed and screamed out.. “LESBIANS!”. That just made me feel sorry for Sawhole, as she could indeed do a lot better than me.

What makes people think that it is fine to scream rude things from cars? I mean, wouldn’t it have been nice if those teenagers had yelled “Keep up the good work!” I would have waved cheerily and it would have been motivating. I would have felt good about wobbling around the suburb, nodding and greeting other people with kind gestures. But I shrugged my shoulders and took some comfort that they will probably all get male patterned baldness in their early twenties, and kept on shuffling.

Later that afternoon, I returned to my happy place. My couch. But I will do it all again. Tomorrow.

Has anyone ever yelled at you from a car?

What did they say?