Guest Writer: Peter Chastagner

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The Limits of Being a Fashion Frontrunner
By the time my fanny packs arrived in the mail, I had already planned my first adventure. Actually I probably knew before I even hit the “Buy now with 1-Click” button on Amazon. $7.95? Quantity: 3! I was off to the swimming pool at the gym. I figured that chicks dig a swimmer’s body and I had no doubt that I would need to be downright sexy in order to pull off the fashion coup of the century.

Along with the fashion statement I was trying to make, the fanny pack would be extremely functional. I didn’t have pockets in any of my athletic shorts and I usually carried my keys, cell phone, membership card and breadsticks (for carbo loading) around the gym with my hands. Not this time! In other news, I was also too cheap to buy a six dollar combination lock for the locker room.

When I arrived I did not get as much attention as I expected. The girl at the front desk was too busy talking to some dude with biceps bigger than my head. I shook it off as a fluke. Just give it time.  

As I arrived at the swimming pool in the back of the gym, I suddenly realized that I was going to have to leave all my stuff in a locker anyway. My new fanny pack wouldn’t survive in the pool. It wasn’t waterproof.

So I opened a locker and threw my fanny pack inside. There was actually a sign on the inside of the door that suggested gym members wear fanny packs to hold onto their valuables while they exercise. I wondered if my accessorizing wasn’t as progressive as I had assumed. Then I went to the pool.

Swimming is fun… probably. Well, I am sure it is tons of fun if you are good at it. I was only able to dive in and swallow a couple gallons of chlorinated water. I switched to backstroke so I could finish my second lap. After weakly pulling myself out of the pool I decided that my sexy swimmer body was going to have to ride the wave of my fashion fame, not the other way around.

I returned to the locker room and tried to open about twenty different locker doors before I found the one with my fanny pack in it. My gym wasn’t in the nicest part of town, so I was actually a little surprised when I fanny pack had not been stolen. I guess there is some sort of natural theft deterrent included in the design.

I left the gym munching on a breadstick, dejected that my pack had not created the buzz that I expected. But I wasn’t deterred from my mission. The fanny pack would soon prevail. 

Photo by Jimmy Edens
So, I totally realized my bio cut off on my last post about Peter but never fear, I could talk about "the overachievner" till the cows come home, okay? As I was saying, Peter is in my journalism class, and last semester he was a part of the news show I briefly talked about in this post here, he's the one who gets all flirty with the dean of the school of social science, if you didn't recognize him by his name alone. You can visit his website here which I just discovered and it's amazing and it states that he is a ghost writer, which def means he talks to dead people and draws mustaches on their lifeless bodies. To the left is a photo of me and the she-devil himself (he's the only dude in the photo). But umm yeah that's about it, he talks to dead people, he severely detests egg salad and has an affinity for fanny packs, we give him two thumbs up around here parts, so keep checking in to read the next installment of the Fanny Pack diaries.

Have a great day
and please keep it sassy,

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