PH33R CURV35!!!

12/13/2004

Here’s my bit of local news, along with a note of sympathy to my dear, sweet husband.
When we moved into our new place, there was a cute pizza parlor across the street called Bruschetta’s. It was a home-town Italian bistro where families and teams would meet after sports games or after long bike rides. Josh’s den had a window that faced that direction and he insisted that his desk be placed overlooking the view. On many summer nights, Josh watched the people chatter outside of the bistro while working his Internet magic.
Then, the owner of Bruschetta’s died suddenly of a heart attack and the place was up for sale. We wondered what would become of the property. We worried that it could potentially be sold to a business that would drag down the neighborhood. Or, even worse, they could put in a Starbucks and drag down our wallet. We hoped it would be something delightful, preferably if it aided us when we didn’t feel like cooking.
They put in a Curves. It’s a workout place only for women that offers circuit training. And, not trying to be mean in any way, because this just happens to be true, all of the women I know who do Curves are overweight. And, you know, it’s really good for them to be working out. But, Curves, as far as I have seen, isn’t the kind of place that attracts young, athletic women. It’s for women with, you know, curves. And when I say “curves,” I mean morbidly overweight. I mean…one of their pantlegs could be worn as a skirt by many other women I know. I mean…well, let’s just leave it at “curvy,” because I think that’s still a politically correct term and sounds better than me using phrases like “semi-truck” and “make a better house than a doorway.”
So, Josh was gone to Bible study tonight, when I heard this horrible racket. The sides of the house were starting to vibrate a bit as someone’s bass was pumping a bit too much. I figured it was from some teenager whose stereo system was worth more than the car it was in. But, the sound just continued. So, after a little investigation, I found that the closest I could get to the sound was in Josh’s den, by Josh’s desk. I opened up the window shades by Josh’s desk only to see the excited new Curve’s owners testing out their new equipment. The music was blasting and, boy were they excited. Trouble is, these women are also…well…curvey. In fact, the whole scene looked like something straight out of a Gary Larson cartoon.
Then it dawned on me. Josh’s window no longer overlooks the quaint Italian bistro. It now overlooks every woman who chooses to work out at Curves. And their…ah-hem…hard at work curviness.
Have a good time trying to concentrate, Sweetie. :-)