So what? I'm still a rock star!

I'm one of those women at the gym who gets competitive with the woman on the treadmill next to her. If there's no woman or adolescent girl next to me, I'll snoop at the miles or pace or hill grade of the treadmill in front of me, or off to the way side of the room. I know it's unattractive, but hey: I don't come here to lie about myself. 

Today as I adjusted my levels on the treadmill I found the perfect competitor. Her triceps scared me. Her back was sweaty. She was moving. Craning my neck, I saw she was at a 4.5% hill grade. "Not bad," I thought, "But I'll raise you a half a percentage point. That's right bitch, I'm at 5%." When she got into the 4+ mph zone without breaking into a jog, I followed her. When she passed the mile point, I was only a quarter mile behind. When she slowed down and got off the treadmill, I was almost too busy checking out how many calories she'd burned to notice that she was totally 100% REALLY FUCKING PREGNANT.