Could I be rail lean like Jenny Shimizu? Sure. A couple months ago, I tried a fabulous instant weight loss plan. Broke up with my partner of 6 years, stopped eating and sleeping, and lost a couple dishes of lasagna from below the waist.
Breaking up and losing weight felt like lying in a car-wreck looking forward to a nose job. I’ll need a transfusion and surgery any way, so why not?
Newly single, vast gulfs of time opened up. I found a new routine to support my weekend bike ride habit. Gym Monday Wednesday. Training rides Tuesday Thursday. Yoga Friday.
One morning, I was waiting at a stoplight after my usual ride in the Oakland hills. A big lady in sweatpants crossed Telegraph Ave in front of me, on her way to the laundromat. We both heard a holler from behind:
“How you doin’ with that fine ass?”
She turned her head. “What?”
The dude hanging out behind the liquor store hollered again, “I said, how you doin’ with that fine ass?” He drawled “fine” like a lingering sip of wine.
The woman smiled. “Fine,” she lilted, without a hint of offense.
The light turned green. She thundered on. I pedaled home to cook myself a mess of breakfast, just a twinge jealous of the flattery.
Recently I was walking my bike through Berkeley when a guy hollered at me.
You mean my thunder thighs? I waved at him, a bit confused. Pedaling home, I pondered my muddy, bloody, sunburned, oversized drumsticks and put 2 x 2 together.
Big Booty = Fine Ass.
Thunder Thighs = Monster Quads.
I like the sound of that.