Oh sweet gym, how I love what you allow me to do to my body... but how I hate almost entirely everything else about you. I arrive bright and early every morning to hope and pray that this day will be different from all the rest. Low and behold, I find myself utterly irritated by the time I leave, hence defeating the whole point of my uplifting workout! Some of the events i am unfortunate enough to witness, couldn't possibly be described well enough on paper for you to understand the magnitude of the ridiculous-ness that is my gym, without in fact experiencing it first hand. So i will do my best to create a picture so that everyone may get the glorious opportunity to understand my frustration.
After a long weekend of eating whatever the hell I felt like eating, I embark on my gym trip a bit earlier then normal to try and burn off at least some of those unwanted extra calories. (In my case it is never just SOME extra calories, as I try not to do anything half-a*s.) As usual, I have to fight for my turn for the stairmaster, which we all know is a girls "rear-ends" best friend. There is only 5 machines, so as you can imagine, there have been numerous altercations over who gets to go first. I have personally had two, with grandmas, yes its true. They make those old ladies a whole lot meaner then they used to! Just for s***s and giggles, turn off one of the gargantuan ultra turbo wind machines that they have pointed 6 inches away from them to ensure that god forbid, they don't break a sweat. They will personally try and assassinate you with their walking stick.
I scurry on past the stinky scrunchie girl, (the old lady who carries with her a most repugnant odor which permeates throughout the entire gym, and who also insists on wearing the intolerable "scrunchie".) On a number of occasions I have had no other choice but to abandon the machine I am on, and move as far away as possible from Ms. Scrunchie, so that I don't suffocate myself in my own gym towel. You would think, that you would realize that something must be wrong with you if every time you are near, somebody flees for dear life. Lets be serious, You smell like s**t. How do you not know this? After I safely avoid Ms. Scrunchie, I then have to make the decision of which person I would rather stick myself in-between (so to speak) for the next hour or so of my life. To the right we have Mr. Drips a lot. A very nice young man in reality, but with one or two major downfalls to his demise. He sweats profusely; dripping from machine to machine, a little too close for comfort at times, and could really use a couple hundred breathe mints. I understand that its cardio, and well, you breathe hard, but at least if you are going to blow your breathe around inconsiderately, brush your damn teeth, or better yet, just hold your breathe. Please dear sir, save us all. To the left we have the gym pervert, well one of the major players at least. Mr. I tan naked, wear halter-top shirts that show my mid-drift, and weird cut-off JEAN shorts, EVERYDAY. On occasion I have been known to yell just a bit, at this raunchy little perv, for he cannot manage to look away from me the entire time he does cardio next to me... Yes, I know that my shorts are short dear, but this doesn't mean that I won't knock you off that stairmaster regardless of how old you are, so please look away, you scare me. After this first task is complete, I make my way on the the locker room to put away my keys, and make sure my bangs aren't stuck to my face. This is an event to behold all on its own. It seems that the only people changing, in full view of everyone that walks in, are again OLD asian ladies, who lets just say, do not believe in razors, waxing, or laser hair removal, b**b jobs or tanning beds. Please oh please ladies; save it for your house. I feel like I am walking into a soft foreign adult movie for the elders when I enter this perilous domain of doom. This is something, that no matter how many times I see, I yet and still, am flabbergasted that this is a normal occurrence, and has oddly enough become accepted as a proper way to appear in public. Cover it up creatures of the obis, for I do not wish to share your naked time with you, nor expose my eyes to anymore of this never ending agony. If I somehow survive this endeavor, I then head over to the weight room. Know this: All that has been experienced so far, is nothing compared to the debauchery that ensues at this final destination. If I knew where to start, it would mean that it really couldn't be that traumatizing of a phenomenon, so therefore I have no other choice but to make these observations into a list, to better appreciate their absurdity.
1.) The giant black dancing machine. Now this guy is cool. At least he knows how to make light of an awkward situation. He will dance and dance for hours, in fact, i think I see him dancing, more then I see him actually lifting weights. This provides me with constant entertainment, and can always put a smile on my face, for a dancing man is a happy man.
2.) Skeletor. Normally, I wouldn't condone making light of people who obviously have a problem eating, or in this case, not. It is by no means funny, and I would feel bad for this lady, if she didn't enjoy the attention so much. Apparently, Ms. Skeletor used to be on the slightly larger side. It is rumored that she has had some sort of weight loss surgery and from the amount of skin that hangs off of her body, I believe this to be true. I admire people that like to stay in shape, or have a goal in mind, because everyone needs something to work for. However, when you have made it to this goal, and kept going much further past the point of any return, I feel you should turn in the running shoes and pick a new goal. Now, if you are going to insist on wearing only a sports bra when you walk into the gym, (as some people should not), then please don't humor everyone by putting on a rugged tank top and tucking it under the sports bra, so that it has now become a cover for your sports bra. I have yet to understand the point of this ritual. Make up your mind; sports bra or tank top. Either way, yes we know you are skinny, we can see every bone in your body, there is no need to show this off. Please; eat a few hundred cheeseburgers, I promise, they taste amazing.
3.) The gym w***e. This one I do not feel guilty for exploiting, for she is any good womens worst nightmare. There are 3 men that are leaving the gym just as i am halfway through my cardio, around 6:45 a.m. Two brothers, (who are very nice men) and another; a balding, obviously on steroids, odd looking meat-head. At his heels, is a not so attractive older lady who insists on round-brushing her hair for the gym every morning at 5 am. Now I have been known to sometimes not remove my false-lashes before I go to the gym because it is a pain in the a*s, and I am lazy. This is not because I am trying to look smokin' hot for the great prospects that are at the gym at the butt-crack of dawn. I call her the ankle-bitter. Like the little dog, that will not leave you alone, This is her; attached to this "taken" mans hip; where he goes she goes sort of thing. I would not be surprised if one day she followed him right into the locker room. She pounces all over him like a s****y little school girl, which im sure she was 53 years ago... and throws herself at him like only this kind of married women can. Look out girls, she's relentless. I disapprove or her whole-heartily, for not only does she act like a tramp, but she seems to have an issue with the fact that I am just better looking then her, and insists on staring and whispering to her little bald boy-toy every time I am within sight. Please woman of Satan; you are far too old to be acting in this immature fashion. Get over yourself because everyone else definitely has!
4.) The smellers. Sweat is sweat, is sweat, this I know. But for god's sake, invest in some deodorant, body wash, perfume, cologne, body spray, febreze, laundry detergent, gum, odor-eaters, scope, toothpaste... I could go on, and on, and on. I joke that I am going to walk around the gym with Glade and spray everyone that smells like a dirty taco stand, but it really isn't a joke. If I can smell you, from all the way across the gym, Its time for you to take a dive into a pool disinfecting-odor neutralizer. Im sure you can smell yourself, because the green cloudy fumes that radiate off or your body, tell me that you wont be the only one basking in your stench. And please, there is an outdoors, save your farts for the ozone layer, not an enclosed "gas-chamber" of death which is this gym.
5.) The imitation "professional street-fighter". The wonderful world of mixed martial arts has been one of the greatest influences on our culture today. Young or old, fat, thin, buff, short or tall; everyone seems to want to be the next ultimate fighter. Though I have myself trained at this sport over the years, and do appreciate the dedication it takes to succeed at this level of physical activity, I will never understand the need to "shadow box" (the act of practicing boxing punches, stance, techniques and movement) in the middle of a weight lifting session with your group of small friends. Whether this is used to intimidate, show-off, or really practice, I will never know. The reality of it is that you look absolutely ridiculous, and it bothers me to no end that everyone and their mother thinks they are the next Chuck Liddell. Hey band-wagon jumpers, you will never scare anyone with that ridiculous tradition because once you open your mouth and a little tiny girl voice comes out, you cant possibly be taken seriously. Save it for the proper time, say an actual boxing training session. Your little friend is about to drop his 25lb weight, and he needs your help. Focus on one activity at a time. Nobody cares if you know how to fight, because if you haven't noticed, you are surrounded by a bunch of medicaid having, denture wearing, depends peeing retirees.
6.) The Poser- "Invisible Lat Syndrome." This is defined as a person who walks around as if their gigantic lats are permitting them from walking with their arms at a normal position at their side, because of course, their monstrous lats are in the way. "The pose." This is defined as an act of "posing" in the mirror as if you are on stage at a bodybuilding competition. "The accidental shirt lift". When a person perhaps pretends that they are airing out their shirt, lifting it up while shaking it, and flexing their abs in the mirror. Also seen when wiping sweat off their forehead as they have their gym towel in the other hand. These are all characteristics of "the poser", whom can be found at any gym, at all times. There is one poser I get the pleasure of laughing at on a regular basis. We shall call him Peter Poser. Formally of the larger decent; after about 5 years of trying everything under the sun (according to him) to lose weight, and finally succeeding at his task, he dropped, oh I'd day, 50 lbs or more. This is a commendable achievement for any person to a point. Apparently, too many people made the mistake of complimenting this man on his weight loss, and he may have taken it a little too seriously, therefore deciding that he should be the next Mr. Universe. Competing is not for everyone, It's not so much about how much weight you can lose, but more so the appearance of your body overall. Sagging skin is not considered something to win a prize for. When you spend most of your time practicing your different poses in the mirror, instead of trying to lift weights that aren't much heavier then my cat, I truly believe that you should hang up your speedo and dark orange tanning spray, and find a new more suitable profession. No offence, but I don't personally see much of a difference between this mans effort at flexing, then we he is just standing around gawking at himself in a serious "I'm a bad-a*s" sort of way. Congratulations on being able to lose weight. Please stop flaunting your "flarms" (fat arms) as if you are better then everyone else. As well as I know I will never be 5'10", you will most likely, never be the next Muscle and Fitness figure model. Please, move on.
7.) Bangs- His name is Bangs and he is a personal trainer with an extra-ordinary sense of style. Also a bit of a mirror w***e if you ask me. Bangs has one unique quality about him that none of the other trainers posses. Form fitted, tailored, extra tight-sleeved work shirts. Yes, we see that you have muscular arms, how can we not since your seems are screaming suffocation! Dear Mr. Bangs, though I have no personal vendetta against you, you make it very easy for me to poke fun at you. Your tight shirts and bangs that are longer then mine make me very distracted when I am attempting to be productive! Shame on you young man for enjoying staring at yourself more then I do at myself! This is a task very hard to beat me at, but yet you manage, and it makes me laugh. Stop trying to be prettier then me for Christs sake!
8.) The girl who must not pay her water bill- To understand the capacity of the oddness of this situation, you must first wrap your minds around the vision of this "shower lady's" boyfriend/husband, or whatever he is. He is probably around 50 or so; white, tall, wears tank tops though he shouldn't, stares uncontrollably at me while he is sitting, yes not working out but sitting, right in front of his chick. He wears hats, that till this day, I did not know where in production anywhere but in the little rascals movie. So far I have seen him wear a hot pink, orange, green and highlighter yellow biking hat, but with the bill folded directly up...????? confusing I know, but yes this is real life, and this does happen. The two wander around the gym uselessly, never really accomplishing much except for story telling hour, and a whole lot of inappropriate undressing me with his old-perv eyes. He has hit on me before, while telling me about his girlfriend, but hey, can't blame him for trying right? No, totally wrong in every way. Now this only takes place on the rare occasion that they actually decide they are going to pretend to work out, even though I see this lady everyday. She rolls a giant suitcase into the womens soft-porn locker room, and sets up an entire bathroom worth of products, makeup etc. around one of the sinks. She takes a shower everyday, with or without working out, but must of the time without, and gets completely ready for her day, She then rolls her giant duffel-bag out to her mini-van. (Yes, I do find this mildly amusing.) As I try and squeeze by her, careful not to get in the way of the closet she has set up in the locker, I find myself convinced that this poor little lady must not have running water or electricity at her house. So then why don't you take a shower at your scheming dirty old mans house? At least then, you wouldn't need to witness the bathing rituals of the elderly asian women.
As I could go on for days and days about the monstrosities that take place at this lovely gym of mine, I feel that I have at least shared the most important characters with you, and therefore must stop thinking about it, as I am beginning to kill off my braincells. I can't wait till tomorrow till I can relive the whole experience yet again. Goody.
Sincerely,
-Life
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Subscribe
Flag Writing