Wednesday, Nov. 24, 2004
Dear Diary:

Smoove. I am the queen of the smoove.

I was at a party a while back, a party mostly of people I don't know well.

This guy mosey-ed over, making the usual party small talk and mentioned that I look different. I told him I've really gotten into weight lifting. He thought that was pretty eccentric for a woman, and I tried to explain the appeal of making your body strong. Along the way, I mentioned how wonderful the endorphin buzz is after a workout, how it's not just my body, it's my spirit that is strengthened.

He was sceptical. I am much smaller physically than I used to be and he felt that if I was muscular then I should have bulked out. I told him women just don't do that and then, just like your average eight-year-old boy would, I flexed my bicep and invited him to feel my muscle.

Which he did. And then something changed. His fingers began travelling lightly up my arm and tracing my shoulder. Looking very intently into my eyes, he told me buff women are very, very sexy.

Oh my.

Look, I realize that when you're at a party and the wine has been flowing some people kind of, uh, test the waters as it were. When I was heavier I didn't show up on most men's sexual radar and so my waters didn't get tested much, which is fine by me. It appears that in shedding some of the fat I may have shed some of my invisibility.

I would like to say that I handled the situation like a suave, sophisticated woman of the world, with just enough flirtatiousness to let him know that it was nice to be complimented, but at the same time conveying that I am not in any way available.

Did I do this?

Oh puh-LEESE.

No, what I did was turn beet red and then blurt the first thing that came into my head, the first thing that would get me as far away from the situation as possible.

My incredibly sophisticated exit line?

"Excuse me, I have to use the bathroom."

Oh yes, I am Marn, Queen o' the Smoove.

Feel free to take notes.

There is only so long that a person can hide in a bathroom. After all, a person should show a modicum of concern for the bladders of others. And let us not forget that spending a long time in the bathroom raises concerns that perhaps something is wrong with the person lurking in the bathroom, that perhaps said person is ill.

And so it was, with great regret, that I left the sanctity of the bathroom and sallied forth back into the party. Apparently turning beet red and bolting for the nearest toilet conveyed my basic message well, because He Who Finds Buff Women Sexy kept his distance for the rest of the night.

So now I've found my niche. Oh yes, apparently I'm catnip for men who have been drinking AND who have a thing for women who demand that said men feel their muscles.

It's a miniscule demographic, but it's mine, all mine.


Mileage on the Marnometer: 875.38 miles.
Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.25 per cent thereTen percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.25 per cent thereTen percent there rubber duck.
Oh man. This is going to be hard
Goal for 2004: 1,000 miles - 1609 kilometers

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She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -

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2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.