This particular band of ruffians manifested itself in a group of about six men between the ages of 16 and 22, and two young boys that were around ten. They were all wearing big baggy shorts and oversized white t-shirts. Most had 'fros. All were riding those "lowrider bikes."
One of the younger ruffians looks back to talk to a ruffian behind him, and his bike veers almost off the sidewalk, and I step north to avoid it. He looks up, startled that he's so close to me, and says, "Excuse me, ma'am!" I laugh a little and say it's alright, but I never really break my stride. And now, I'm in the midst of the ruffians.
"Hey, you've got some nice legs!" one of the older ones says, and I blush, and keep walking. "Hell yeah, those are some stems!" another one chimes in. At this point I'm past the group, and I can hear them still chattering amongst themselves. The workout shorts that I was wearing said "FINEST" on the ass (my dorm's mascot in college was the "finest". Seriously, look at the bottom of that page. It says, "Home of the Finest."), and there were some quiet remarks made about that, and then, I'm sure, they forgot all about me.
And I know I shouldn't care at all about what they said, and, in fact, a lot of times when something like this happens, I'm insulted to be treated like a piece of meat. But tonight, it made me happy. I don't remember a stranger ever complimenting me on my legs before, and I liked it. It made me glad that I was working out.
So to celebrate, tonight instead of sternum baring, I did leg baring. I wore a bright red mini skirt out, and I had a gin and tonic.
The worst thing about working out, though, is my thought was, "I wonder how many calories are in a gin and tonic?"