Swish, swash, swish, swash.

 

 I watch as her legs go round in an elliptical manner. A manner that makes sense, she’s on an elliptical trainer after all. Her legs are moving almost as fast as her lips are. She’s chatting on her pink Motorola RAZR, she got the pink one, because well, she’s a pink kind of girl. Finishing up her call she flips her phone closed, putting it in it’s custom carrying case so as to avoid scratches. In one fluid motion she puts away her phone, turns back on her iPod nano. Unfortunately the iPod nano though very girly, only comes in black or white, so she has a pink case for it. She’s a pink kind of girl.

I imagine some day she’ll marry a blue kind of boy. Not blue in the sense of depressed mind you. Blue in the sense of, born in a blue blanket, as she was born in a pink blanket. Blue in the sense of running under a blue sky, in blue jeans, catching a blue frisbee perhaps? With a dog he might name Blue. He would of course have blue eyes, if not she would buy him contacts that would make his eyes seem blue. He of course would have a blue case for his iPod.

I look away as to avoid her noticing that I was focusing on her. After all, it is common for pink girls to get looks from boys. It would not be so bad for her to assume I was oggling her, she has learned to accept and expect this from men. But I avoid eye contact nonetheless. The swishing and swashing of the elliptical slows, as our little pink one dismounts somewhat tired from her endeavors. She places her pink bottle to her lips, replenishing the moisture now falling down her forehead. She looks around wondering when those last five pounds are going to go away, and wondering if we can all see the weight that she’s ashamed of.

She cleans off her machine, ready for the next person, as she walks back into the changing room. While inside she will check her voice mail, and wonder if anyone truly loves her. She will hope that she will have a message from some blue boy. I don’t know if there will be one waiting. But she’ll walk out those doors when she’s done, and she won’t say goodbye to anyone. She’ll either talk on her pink RAZR, or listen to her pink clad nano, lost somewhere between capital and lowercase letters. I wonder if someday she’ll know, that she has green eyes.