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I know I am a hick. Listen, this is not news. I never fail to be amazed by the posh life and revel in any exposure at all to it. When my husband and I travel, and stay in fine hotels, I am giddy with excitement at the amenities. I scream in joy over tiny fancy soaps, shampoos and lotions. I fill my suitcase daily with the supplies in order that the maid will bring me more of that delightful stuff. When my husband and I decided to change gyms, it was a hard decision. Every one of my friends belongs to our old gym. I still remembered the day that my pal Kathy forced me into that place for a spin class. I was sure I would never join. I stayed nearly five years from that first class. I LOVED the people, but little by little, it became obvious to us that we were going to have to move to a new gym. My husband, who swims regularly, was finding it increasingly difficult to get availability at our gym. It’s a very long story, but trust me when I say it was all Frank’s fault. Frank was the new swim coach at the gym. I don’t want to get into it, but it was time for us to go. So it was that we found ourselves members at the super-new, pish-posh gym just down the road from our old gym. This place, our new gym, made my Goober-esque mouth drop open in awe. Marble foyer, wide screen televisions, state of the art equipment, and BIG, PLUSH, towels. And there was more fantastic news: huge, double curtained showers complete with crème rinse, shower gel, shampoo, and washcloths. But my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE all of the perks of this new gym had to be the CUPS OF WATER. Every bountiful and clean water fountain has a styrofoam cup dispenser mounted on the wall next to it. The first time I saw all of those environmentally unfriendly cups I was riveted. And thirsty. I must have had ten cups of water that first day, chased, naturally, by 5 trips to the posh bathroom. DID I MENTION THERE IS A TOWEL ATTENDENT IN THERE? I have only been to our new gym a handful of times since we joined. It is my husband who yields the numerous joys of working out in the ritzy gym. It is he who can shower with gel, crème rinse his hair, and dry off with a thick and absorbent towel. And it is he who can care less. He is just happy to have pool availability. All the rest of it, the cups of water, the thick towels, and the washcloths…are not even a blip on his radar. He’s down to earth like that. Meanwhile, when I do make it to the gym, I stand around like little Laura Ingalls when Pa took her to town to buy calico. Guzzling cup after cup of water, and wrapped in two or three fluffy towels, I am basically spellbound by the luxury. Unable to pretend for a moment that any of this is the norm for me, I cannot stop myself from taking a shower just to use the coconut conditioner even if I have not worked out. I am Hick Herb, gone to the big city gym. I quiver in fear that I shall be found out and my sweet, sweet, cup of water will be pried from my hand as I am escorted off the premises. Luckily, my bike riding schedule keeps me out of those fancy digs most of the time. Cuz, I am out of my element in that posh gym. I know I am a hick. A hick with endless cups of water, should I decide to go uptown to my new gym.
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