Chicks dig not being the only chick in the weight room

After I get out of my ballet class, I hang my coat in a dented locker and make my way back to the "light" weight room. It's been too long - five days, to be exact - since I've hoisted some heavy things. I'm on to stage 2 of NROLFW and can't wait to start off with some front squat/push presses. There's a piece of posterboard with the markered words "WOMEN ONLY FROM 4:30 to 9:30". Normally when I use this gym, a city-sponsored club two blocks from my apartment that costs $70 a year, this room is empty. But tonight, it's hard for me to make my way to the old-fashioned squat rack to grab the bar. This pleases me, for some reason.
This is no Sports Club LA. The Nautilus equipment is newish, but everything else is dusty and there is only one clamp for the barbell, making squats and bench presses even more sweat-inducing than usual. I fear gaining strength, because the dumbbells only go up to 20lbs, and to use any heavier ones, I'd have to go to the "heavy" weight room. We can hear the meathead grunts from the other side of the gym.
The best thing about tonight is the variety of women lifting, pressing, pulling, and laughing. I see several pairs of women guiding each other through a series of moves written out on pads of yellow legal paper. Two older Hispanic women in second-hand track suits take turns doing cable machine pulldowns, one doing her set while the other one dances to the radio, laughing with a toothless cackle.
I hear "excuse me" and "may I work in?" and girls walk considerately around me as I do step-ups onto a bench.
When I jog home in the cold to make sure to be on the couch for the LOST premiere, I feel invigorated and happy, so far from the mess of nerves and blue I was while I was in Florida (yeah, Florida. I'm that ungrateful.)
I need to remember that I need this. I NEED THIS. If I don't move, I will stop.
It's that simple.