It’s working. The gym, I mean. The legs are more shapely, the shoulders – rounder and harder and the muscles are sore.

How do you know that?

That the muscles are sore? You can see it in your walking and the way you move your arms. You have trouble reaching and turning. I can tell that your abs don’t allow smooth movement.

OK then.

I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I just wanted to let you know that the changes are noticeable.



Are you offended?

I’m creeped out. I didn’t ask for your comment on my body and I don’t know how you know I go to the gym, or have seen me enough to say that you see a change in my body. How is that not creepy?

I’m sorry. I just wanted to give you a compliment. I see you go to the gym most days because I just work over there.


Is that not OK?

Why would you think I would want your comment?

Everybody likes to feel beautiful.

I don’t need your comment to feel beautiful. In fact, your comment makes me feel unsafe and uncomfortable.

Jesus Christ, I wasn’t saying you needed it. Why can’t you take a compliment? Why can’t I just give you a compliment? Is that a crime?


It’s not a compliment.


You didn’t give me that assessment for my benefit. You gave me that assessment as if your perception and approval of the shape of my body might make me interested in you.

What the fuck? Are you a fucking feminazi? I was paying you a compliment for fucks sake.

Clearly, by this display you weren’t giving me a compliment with no strings attached – you want me to be thankful for it – you want me to pay for it. That’s not a gift. You’re not a nice guy.

And you’re a fucking bitch.

Ok. Seeya. By the way, the cheeseburgers are working.


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