In my newly found "free time", I've begun going to the gym. Like regularly. And I must say, with my whole entire soul, I hate it.
You walk in, with your little exercise gear on. iPod all ready to go with some fantastic playlist. Sneakers laced. Boobs being suffocated by the most inhumane contraption on Earth known as a "sports bra" (which, always, ALWAYS gives you uni-boob) and you just look around and shake your head.
At any given minute, on any given day, you can find the following people at your local gym.
I. Annie Anorexia: She weighs in as soon as she arrives. All 86 lbs of her. She goes super crazy Sonic the Hedgehodge speeds on the elliptical. To the point where you want to give her a hug, and tell her to slow down. Life will be ok. The machine didn't kill your mother. You don't have to punish it so. And then she jumps off and weighs herself again. And works out. And weighs herself again. And on and on ad nauseum. Until her, and her bony ass finally stumble out. Smelling like sweat, malnutrition and daddy issues.
II. Super Cool Muscle Head: Only goes to the gym to look at himself in a really really REALLY big mirror. Does a few reps. Flexes. Does a few more, takes cell phone pic of himself. Few more reps, winks at the front desk girl. Dude is literally working out, just to admire how amazing he is FOR working out. Easily spotted by the can of Muscle Milk in his hand, and freshly ironed wife beater. No sweat. Anywhere.
III. Your mom. : Or any ones mom. With her Wal-Mart Kathy Ireland work out gear on. Freshly laced Sketchers Shape-ups. Your mom is at the gym, to basically get away from your dad. Or you. Or just, life in general. She actually watches Regis and Kelley on the flatscreens. And chuckles when Regis makes some off-comment. She purchases all the juices/smoothies/tee-shirts and key-chains the gym sells. She has a flashy new water bottle. Possibly filled with white wine. She's just basically there so she doesn't have to be at home cooking dinner.
IV. All dem baby mommas: Similar to your mother, these ladies are just here to "loose those last 5 baby weight pounds." They're the ones hogging all the weight machines, because they have to text for 36 minutes in between each set.
They walk on the treadmill, extremely slowly, while talking on their phones about how their baby's dads ain't shit. They walk around the gym in general. In their fancy new Nike's and matching headbands. Nails freshly done. Full face of make up. The gym is their club. In which they can meet and possibly have indiscretions with our final gym member....
V. The gym pimp. Only at the gym to pick up women. Most of the times, right off the street wearing jeans and timbs. You never "actually" see them working out. They just walk around with their blue tooth in, looking really important and busy.
No one is sure why these men are in the gym. Staring at asses. Offering tips. Making small talk. And just being "douchey". These men, for the low-low price of $20 a month, can try and pick up as many insecure, lonely women who think they're fat as their hearts desire. I salute these men.
So finally, you get on the elliptical. With all these weird gym rats around.
And you're so exhausted from psycho-analyzing all the personalities around you, that you decided to go home and watch Judge Mathis.
And perhaps do some squats in the living room. The gym, its just not for you.
II. Super-cool juice head.
You walk in, with your little exercise gear on. iPod all ready to go with some fantastic playlist. Sneakers laced. Boobs being suffocated by the most inhumane contraption on Earth known as a "sports bra" (which, always, ALWAYS gives you uni-boob) and you just look around and shake your head.
At any given minute, on any given day, you can find the following people at your local gym.
I. Annie Anorexia: She weighs in as soon as she arrives. All 86 lbs of her. She goes super crazy Sonic the Hedgehodge speeds on the elliptical. To the point where you want to give her a hug, and tell her to slow down. Life will be ok. The machine didn't kill your mother. You don't have to punish it so. And then she jumps off and weighs herself again. And works out. And weighs herself again. And on and on ad nauseum. Until her, and her bony ass finally stumble out. Smelling like sweat, malnutrition and daddy issues.
II. Super Cool Muscle Head: Only goes to the gym to look at himself in a really really REALLY big mirror. Does a few reps. Flexes. Does a few more, takes cell phone pic of himself. Few more reps, winks at the front desk girl. Dude is literally working out, just to admire how amazing he is FOR working out. Easily spotted by the can of Muscle Milk in his hand, and freshly ironed wife beater. No sweat. Anywhere.
III. Your mom. : Or any ones mom. With her Wal-Mart Kathy Ireland work out gear on. Freshly laced Sketchers Shape-ups. Your mom is at the gym, to basically get away from your dad. Or you. Or just, life in general. She actually watches Regis and Kelley on the flatscreens. And chuckles when Regis makes some off-comment. She purchases all the juices/smoothies/tee-shirts and key-chains the gym sells. She has a flashy new water bottle. Possibly filled with white wine. She's just basically there so she doesn't have to be at home cooking dinner.
IV. All dem baby mommas: Similar to your mother, these ladies are just here to "loose those last 5 baby weight pounds." They're the ones hogging all the weight machines, because they have to text for 36 minutes in between each set.
They walk on the treadmill, extremely slowly, while talking on their phones about how their baby's dads ain't shit. They walk around the gym in general. In their fancy new Nike's and matching headbands. Nails freshly done. Full face of make up. The gym is their club. In which they can meet and possibly have indiscretions with our final gym member....
V. The gym pimp. Only at the gym to pick up women. Most of the times, right off the street wearing jeans and timbs. You never "actually" see them working out. They just walk around with their blue tooth in, looking really important and busy.
No one is sure why these men are in the gym. Staring at asses. Offering tips. Making small talk. And just being "douchey". These men, for the low-low price of $20 a month, can try and pick up as many insecure, lonely women who think they're fat as their hearts desire. I salute these men.
So finally, you get on the elliptical. With all these weird gym rats around.
And you're so exhausted from psycho-analyzing all the personalities around you, that you decided to go home and watch Judge Mathis.
And perhaps do some squats in the living room. The gym, its just not for you.
II. Super-cool juice head.
So accurate! I stopped going to one gym because of the gym pimp. I'm here to workout not find a man so leave me the hell alone.
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure if it already fits in one of the above categories but the guy that is always trying to give women advice on how to properly workout. I know what I'm doing, I don't need your assistance sir.