The gym

I’m going to go the gym. I’m wearing my gym clothes and everything. I even have a rubber band around my right wrist to keep my hand from falling off. Have you ever tried to exercise without a hand? Actually for certain things like jogging or riding a bike (if you have a good balance) it’s not so bad, but for weight lifting or, say, competitive hand shaking, it’s a detriment. But actually it’s there so I can put my hair in a pony tail at said gym, which I haven’t been to in so long that last time I went (not to exercise, but to check on my locker) I found a layer of dust on my lock. I would have opened it but I couldn’t remember the combination. I also can’t remember what’s inside there. Probably some hair junk, more rubber bands, a half eaten sandwich and some arts and crafts supplies. My friend and I long to spend a day in the locker room creating dioramas inside our lockers, just to see what people would say to us if we were really in there for a whole day cutting little things out of construction paper. Also, I removed the irritating rubber band and if you’ll notice I’m sitting here writing BS so as not to be at the gym. Okay, here I go.