The skinny on skinny.

It was 25 minutes into my treadmill session -somewhere between "Oh my God I can't feel my legs" and "My heart's going to explode into a million pieces"- when she walked into the gym in her skinny gloriousness. Actually, the first thing I noticed was her long, wavy hair bouncing around her shoulders and I thought,"Go tie your hair, woman. That is SO not practical in a gym." And then of course, my eyes glazed momentarily over her ridiculously tiny waistline and legs which seemed to go on forever. The gaze of the male crowd lingered a bit longer as she made her way to the treadmill beside mine and I swear she smelled like strawberries. Her arms were gazelle-like. She was just skinny. Skinny, skinny, skinny. The kind that even if you threw a lump of fat on, it would just slide off her. And so I watched her from the corner of my eye as she ran. Even her run looked 'skinny', as if she was going to sprout wings and suddenly flutter off into the night. The crazy woman didn't even seem to break sweat. And there we were, side by side. I looked at our reflection and how I was the anti-skinny in a world of skinny, a tinge of envy creeping in. And then I realised, as I stared at her bony butt...

I didn't want to be skinny.

Where was the fun in skinny? Even the word 'skinny' was unsexy - Why would I want to associate myself with the epidermis? No, a 20-inch waist was not the solution, at least not for me. And my legs were never built for hot pants and heels. Plus my boobs would look ridiculous on a rack of bones. No. I didn't want to be skinny. As I pushed myself to run faster and harder, I caught a glimpse of Skinny in the reflection again, her wavy hair bouncing around her Skeletor shoulders, and realised that I could look better than skinny. I could look stronger. I had enough meat on my body to cushion my ass if I fell off the treadmill, that's for sure. I didn't want to be skinny. I could never be skinny. Instead, I wanted to be stronger. Solid. Abs of steel. Okay, and a really nice ass you could bounce a coin off.

And so Skinny hit the showers after her 15-minute 'run' while I continued to slowly die doing crunches. Hell, I gave up on the Skinny Dream ages ago. My body isn't built for that. And you know what? Thank God it isn't.