GNC Now Peddling Crack!

A few weeks ago, I vowed to stop posting on the family blog and start writing here. Since then, I have demonstrated my commitment by posting about 6 times on the family blog. The two posts I chose to claim for myself are as long as they are surly. My bad on that one.

I don't know if it is cooling weather or reintroduction to routine, but I have been in a fierce writing mood lately. 

Usually, our two girls keep us pinned pretty close to home. Fortunately, the daycare at Gold's Gym has flipped that switch. Because we have to make appointments for the kids, we can't skip our workout or even show up late. 

This year has been one of determination. I weigh more now than I ever have in my life. Fueled with a pricey Gold's keychain and disgust with my gut, I have been working pretty hard.

The other day, I decided to jog through the Gateway from my office to GNC. As expected, I found a few cans of premixed protein drinks. When I walked in, the woman behind the counter was pacing violently behind the register. She smiled, exposing too many teeth for comfort. I wandered through the store and said "Hi" back to her the first three times she said it but not the following six. 

For the sake of GNC employees, I will admit that my tutelage in Utah has been a sheltered one. I have never spent time with someone I knew had just snorted cocaine, but if the movies have taught me well, this chick was about a gram away from a cerebral snow drift. 

The entire time I had been in the store, waist-high displays had separated us. When I held up a can of chocolate protein shake, she actually shrieked and jumped back. I just stood there, wondering if I should drop the can and bolt from the store. Immediately she covered her face and began giggling wildly.

"Hands!! Look at your hands!!!" she indicated, still covering her mouth with hers. 

I did as instructed, half expecting to find them covered in boils, blood or demonic chipmunks. To me, they looked normal. 

Her arms fell to her side and she gawked at me like an Oklahoman who has just found a dead rhinoceros on their back-country road.

"Your hands are EEEE-NORM-OUS!!!"

I felt like a sideshow attraction - like someone had surgically attached giant foam fingers to my wrists and failed to inform me or gather a consent form.

She watched me, slack-jawed and speechless while I paid for the drink and fled the store. Have you ever tried to take out your wallet and pay for something while hiding your hands? You can't do it!

I got over it after calling Jenny, flustered and asking her, "Do I have freakishly huge hands?" She assured me that I did not. I still walked all the way back to the office with the monstrosities stuffed into my pockets.