Old­er woman work­ing out with per­son­al train­er: I’m al­most 70 years old. Ask me how much I care how I look. I don’t even have a mir­ror in my bath­room. I was just in­ter­est­ed in a chem­i­cal peel. They want­ed to roll my skin up over my head, take out the fat, then roll it down again, not to men­tion take out my liv­er and kid­ney. And the woman that’s drag­ging me around to this stuff? She’s a gush­er. I hate gush­ers. She says: “We’ll go through this to­geth­er”. She says: “Ask the gods.” Can you imag­ine me ask­ing the gods for a facelift? What blas­phe­my. She says: “Tell me about your­self”. I say: “You mean the hero­in ad­dic­tion?” She says: “Re­al­ly?” I say: “Yeah, it was af­ter my two daugh­ters were born, when I start­ed rob­bing banks to sup­port us.” Hon­est­ly, every­thing has to be so sor­did be­fore some­one will lis­ten to you. You have to have an in­ces­tu­ous af­fair or some­thing. When in re­al­i­ty, I work all day, then come home and watch TV like the rest of the hu­man race.

Wom­en’s gym
Stu­dio City, Cal­i­for­nia

Over­heard by: Try­ing not to howl with laugh­ter