First, Kirby Puckett RIP. Kirby, one of those great non-athletic looking baseball players, like John Kruk and my beloved Tony Gwynn, who could pound the living snot out of the ball. Kirby, pudgy and jovial, with a happy smile that let everyone know he loved the game. Kirby, after whom I named by egg-baby in health my freshman year of high school, because it was a brown chicken egg and it reminded me of him. He will be remembered, and missed.

Now, on to other things. Namely, gym apparel. It fascinates me to look at all the different fashion statements being made at the gym. Many people dress as I do, in baggy shorts or track pants and oversized cotton t-shirts, designed for free movement and fat camouflage. No one can tell where my rolls are if I wear baggy t-shirts. I've just recently downsized--for years now I've bought XL t-shirts so I have drawers full of them, but the past few shirts I've ordered have been larges instead. I've lost 35 pounds, sort of stuck on a plateau right now, but hopefully it will continue.

Then there are the athletic types. These are people in shape who choose to flaunt it. The women wear the close fitting bra-in athletic sports tops, the tanktop kind which show off their artificially tanned shoulders. They wear spandex shorts so short that my mother would scold me for wearing them. Previously I had only seen these spandex shorts on volleyball players in games (we called them "bungees" in high school for some obscure reason); apparently they are vogue now. The men wear jogging shorts, the short-short kind with the little upside-down v-shaped vent on the sides. They also wear expensive Nike or Under Armor "dry fit" shirts that wick the sweat away from your body instead of getting soggy (which is what MY t-shirt does).

There are the seriously bulky weightlifters, who wear cut-away tank-tops that look like what Hulk Hogan always chose to rip from his body before a wrestling event, and Zubaz, those terrible baggy pants, somewhat MC Hammer-ish, whose wearing is only justifiable at the gym or a professional sporting event (Troll and Hoff come to mind with their Chargers' Zubaz). I would laugh at these people, except they could break me in half.

And there are the freaks. These are the people who just dress, well, weird. For the gym, anyway. The people who get on the treadmill still wearing their work clothes in the afternoon, or wearing them early in the morning before embarking for the day. Some of them bother to change their shoes at least; others do not. There are women in power suits and sneakers, men in khakis and button-downs with loafers, punk kids in flannel and denim with Birkenstocks. There's the infamous sorority girl I witnessed (the one who fell off the treadmill) who was in a miniskirt.

I'm always curious why people choose to wear what they wear. I bet if I were to look at their CD players or mp3 players, I could get some insight into their minds. [For example, the last five songs I heard on my mp3 player this morning were "The King of Bedside Manor" by Barenaked Ladies, "I'm the Man" by Anthrax, "I Need a Hero" by Frou Frou, "Video Killed the Radio Star" by The Presidents of the United States of America, and "The Other Side" by Aerosmith. What does this say about me? I don't know.]