the gym

I can feel the air on my thighs and a jiggle in my step after I slip into my gym shorts. My cellulite, which rarely sees the light of day, is hanging out for all to see. My thighs rub together and stubble stands on end without the protective sheath of my capris. I am ready to get my workout on. And I am uncomfortable.

An open letter to that guy at the gym who wants everyone to hear him grunting.