I was with my mother in our oh-so-suburban Volvo in the parking lot of this shopping center (read: U-shaped strip mall) heading from the car to the supermarket. There was a patch of grass between the parking rows, wider than the usual 3-foot separators, but certainly too narrow to be considered a park.
As we got out of the car I saw a girl about my age walking to the center of the grassy strip carrying a narrow bright pink boom box, wearing leggings and leg warmers and with a headband on. She finally found a suitable place to stop, put her pink boom box down on the grass, cranked the volume and pushed play.
Up cued a Get In Shape, Girl and began exercising. In the middle of a parking lot.
HM brought up to me earlier about how gross it is that people sunbathe on the Mall, and all I could think of was how tragically embarrassed I was for this girl. It was like watching a sitcom when one of the characters sings. Or has to be in a dance contest or something. It’s like you have to change the channel and watch ANYTHING else than have to be vicariously embarrassed for Zack Morris or whoever. That’s how I felt for this girl.