Does Dunkin' Donuts count as exercise?

Everyday I go to the gym. Monday through Friday I get The King all ready and we head out to to play. He now loves it and asks to go on the weekends too. Alas, Anna Maria the goddess of gym childcare isn't there and try as I might, I'm just not feelin leaving my baby with the teenage dude who watches sports on the daycare tv all weekend. Sorry, kid.

 I can't blame The King for loving it, it's humongous room filled with other kids his age and like, eleventy-billion toys. He used to cry when I dropped him off, now he doesn't want to leave.

And how I love the one hour of working out and watching something other than that blasted Dora! I love it. And I truly am digging the rag tag group that I see at the gym on the daily. I can always count on Bath Towel Turban man to make a silly joke before he hops on the bike. (Oh yes, he wraps a bath towel around his head and somehow manages to tie it in a bow. I've NO idea how this happens, I mean how tiny is his head? I wouldn't know, I've never seen it sans towel.) There are of course, 20 or so moms like me, sporting yoga pants and hoodies,  bringing their kids decked out in gymboree finery to play with all the wonderful toys. NBA Guy who is always there...always. If I go at night after Max goes to bed, there he is. Early morning, there he is. Noon? There he is. He is either stalking me or living at the gym.  But my very favorite of all my fellow workout companions is Combover Guy, he's 75 if he's a day, hair dyed a brilliant warm auburn and combed over, he always sports a wife beater, short shorts with knee socks, black tennies and he runs like the wind on the treadmill every morning for no less than 1.5 hours.

I couldn't do that if my life depends on it. 

Running, I mean. I can certainly dye my hair and comb it over whilst wearing a wife beater. It wouldn't be pretty, but I could manage.

Today the mood in the gym was decidedly grumpy and I couldn't quite figure out why! That is until I hooked into an episode of Los Vegas and began climbing those Random Hills on ye olde elliptical machine (Dear whoever invented the elliptical, marry me?)  I climbed and watched and perhaps even laughed out loud a time or two at the show and wait - what is that? What is this happening in the manager's office? 

His office is, of course, facing the workout floor and comprised of huge glass windows. There he is. happy as can be feet propped up with a whole Domino's pizza and huge box of Dunkin' Donuts. And he is eating. A piece of pizza. A donut. Alternating savory and sweet... seriously if looks could kill he would have been instantly incinerated as he watched the little tv in his office and ingested 20,000 of the most envied calories ever. 

Butthead.

(LENT!)

I shared a grumpy look with Combover Guy and we pressed on, silently resolving to do as the manager says and not as he does.

Butt.head.