Standing on the outside looking in

So on Friday I finally snatched my opportunity: R brought me with her to the swank gym with floor-to-ceiling windows perched directly above the edge of the Boston Common. The gym I've been trying to weasel my way into for years. And it was all that I'd hoped it would be. A gazillion brand new machines, a view overlooking the brightly lit downtown hubbub, a private locker room with every amenity imaginable, and beautiful people everywhere. I was like a kid in a candy shop - I hardly knew what to do with myself. A gym whore in her natural element.

And now, it's all I can think about. I'm surprised I haven't dreamt about it. I desperately want to go back. J told me that she can get me in, since she works for the restaurant group that's connected, and R promised me that any week-long passes she accumulates are mine for the taking. I'd imagined that once I'd gotten my charity admission ticket the magic would wear off. But the allure of the SC has only grown since I stepped foot through the shiny glass doors and was welcomed into my own personal heaven. God would want me to have this. I know he would.