"the shoes"

As I drive to work in the morning, depending on what time I leave, I watch the parade of ladies in "the shoes", as I lovingly refer to them.

You may know who I mean. Maybe you pass them on your way to work.

These are the dedicated: "it's-my-break-so-I'll-put-on-my-sneakers-and-
walk-like-a-maniac-around-the-block-time" women.

I admire these women. Not a one is skinny. Not a one is fit. Not a one is in sweat clothes.

But they're trying. Trying to get skinny. Trying to stay fit. Trying to pretend to be in sweat clothes.

Who started this trend anyway? I think it started in New York. Because in New York, you take a subway and then walk another 10 blocks to get to your destination.

Putting on your sneakers (as they say on the east coast...here they are tennis shoes) makes a whole lot more sense than struttin' down the street in your Jimmy Choos, Prada, or Manolo Blahnik's (HA...as if I own a pair of any of those. This is real life, not an episode of Sex and the City).

And these women walk in packs.
And can they talk.
And talk.
And talk.

Maybe I'm jealous of the ladies in "the shoes". After all...they don't have to be skinny. They don't have to be fit. They just have to be willing and raring to go.

And these women bond...each and every day.

I imagine they talk of life and love, of children, and divorce, the latest with Britney, and who got kicked off of Dancing with the Stars, who was diagnosed with cancer this week, and what they'll make for dinner that night, will my husband still love me if I don't lose this weight, will I get that raise, will my children be okay, who will win for president, and do our lives really matter after all.

Women just trying to stay fit, while trying to make a living, and take care of their families, only to wake up and do it all again tomorrow.

And, tomorrow, I'll wake up, drink my coffee, and drive off, to once again witness, but perhaps with a whole new respect...

the ladies in "the shoes".