You can have my sweatpants when you pry them from my cold dead hands.

Recently, I've had a lot of free time on my hands. I'd been spending so much of this free time at Wal-Mart that they were about to start charging me rent, so I had to find something else to do. I figured that since I've been paying ten bucks a month to be a member of a gym, I might as well start spending some time there. And besides, I figured that maybe I would find some equipment there that would help me get rid of these godforsaken love handles.

For those of you who don't already know, I dig music. I like to listen to it as I exercise to keep the level of monotony at a minimum. I've had an iPod Mini for about four years which I keep in my pocket and listen to as I work out. That's perfectly acceptable to me, but everyone else at the gym is always showing off their new-fangled iPod Nano strapped to their arm, listening to it through a pair of those itty-bitty ear buds while I'm listening to my iPod dinosaur through a real set of headphones like it's 1985 and shit. I don't know if this should make me feel inferior, or if it's a sign that I'm walking on a treadmill among a bunch of dorks. Tonight, I actually saw one dude who had his iPod Shuffle clipped to the side of his baseball cap. Now, that's classy.

Then, I noticed that I am part of the 2% of the people there who wear sweatpants. Some of those who frequent the establishment like to wear shorts even though it's 16 degrees outside, but most of them sport those vinyl pants with the cool stripes down the side of each leg. I don't know, why should this bother me? I have a couple of pairs of sweatpants lying around, which I only use as pajama pants, so I figured I could get a bit of use out of them outside of the home. It's not like I'm wearing my sweatpants out to Pomeroy's Steakhouse for a surf and turf dinner, for fuck's sake.

And then, I noticed a couple of jocks in the corner, speaking among themselves and snickering as they were glancing at my feet every few seconds. One of these guys was wearing a pair of Nikes, and the other was wearing a pair of New Balance running sneakers. And there I was, wearing a pair of Kangaroos. Kangaroos were really cool back when I was in middle school, primarily because they had a little pocket on the side of each shoe, hence the name, "Kangaroos". I had a pair in the seventh grade, and boy, was I the shit. Apparently, Kangaroos no longer score a fella quite as many cool points as they did back in the day. Over the next half hour or so, I couldn't help but notice that almost everyone there was wearing a pair of hundred dollar-plus name brand athletic shoes. What a bunch of assholes.

But fuck it. I'm glad I was able to get this off my chest. I don't feel so self-conscious anymore. Tomorrow, I'm going down to the gym with my crappy old iPod in the pocket of my sweatpants, and I'll wear my Kangaroos with pride, just as though I were walking into Miss Purdum's algebra class. And maybe I'll even wear a pair of dirty, smelly socks, just for good measure.

So much for keeping up with the Joneses.