I take a gym bag to work just like all the fun and hip people. It looks cool on the train and when people see me they’re like, “oh wow, that person has their life together for sure.” But it’s time I tell the truth about that gym bag that I carry with me on my way to and from work: it doesn’t have any gym clothes in it at all. It’s full of hundreds of garlic knots.

And I still go to the gym. But I don’t work out. I just go so people can see me enter the gym and be like, “wow that person goes to the gym every night. That’s impressive and amazing of them.” But all I do at the gym is take my trusty salt satchel with me into the bathroom, and eat garlic knots for a few hours in their until I’m ready to go. I call those my “naughty knots,” because I have to eat them kind of quietly so that no one notices.


Before I leave the gym, I put a piece of paper over my Fitbit that says 1 million steps, and I head home, so that people on the train will look at my wrist and be like, “holy shit, that’s a super human or something. Lucky me to even be standing this close to them.” And then I get home and eat more garlic knots, but these knots, unlike my naughty knots, I can shovel into my mouth as loud as I want.

My fingers are constantly covered in grease and the people closest to me are always asking things like, “oh, is that why you always smell like an Olive Garden dumpster?” and “do you need help?” but it’s all worth it in case I have the urge mid-commute to pop one of those reject salt dough balls of heaven into my mouth when no one is looking.

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