The Gym-nasties, Part 1

Remember when Skinny Bitch took my fan from me at the gym? I have an update. If you want you can go back to that post and look at the picture I drew. Or I will just explain it to you. (I am too lazy to draw another picture.) In this one section of the gym, where Jason and I usually work out because it has a window that has a fairly nice view of our little town, there are 5 rows of cardio machines. Three of the rows are made up of mostly treadmills and the other 2 are different types of cross trainers. Each row has 10 machines. I always do the treadmill. I used to always take the front row, right in front of the window and right in front of the middle fan. I always chose that one specifically for the fan because, as we all know (yada yada yada), I hate to be hot.

Something happened to me. I don’t know how it happened, but since that day, I have not had a comfortable workout in front of that fan. In fact, I, more often than not, don’t even use one of the treadmills in the front row and I always use a treadmill that is not in the direct path of the wind from the fan. I have even gone as far as to use the treadmills in the fifth row. If I do get in front of any of the fans, I am too cold. I haven’t changed what I wear. I still sweat, but I don’t mind it. It’s actually better to be hot and sweaty than it is to being cold while you are working out because you still sweat, but you just have this cold clammy feeling.

Eureka! Right?

Speaking of Skinny Bitch, I have seen her other times at the gym since that day, although I have never seen her asking anyone else for, nor hogging, the fan. She always looks impeccable, too, in her tight, cute little workout wear and with her hair and make up all done nicely. Totally opposite from me, of course, in my stretchy, but loose, shorts and ratty t-shirt. I throw my hair in a pony and use one of those dumb clippy things to pin my bangs back because I don’t want them to get all sweaty and stringy and irritate me. I never even look at myself in the mirror before I go up to the gym floor. I might frighten myself.

There is this other woman that I see all the time. She is frightening. Sometimes I catch her freshening her make up in the mirror when I go to take a pee before getting on the treadmill. Then I see her up there after she has just put on fresh make up in the locker room. What the fuck is the point? Seriously. Besides she looks like a whore. Her makeup is unbelievable. It doesn’t even look nice. She looks like a poorly made up clown. Ladies, you know what I mean. You could outline her blush with a pencil if you wanted to and her powder blue eyeshadow is, um, ridiculous. She also is anorexic looking. She should spend more time with sandwiches and less time searching for “meat” at the gym. Don’t even get me started on her choice of clothing. Oh, okay, if you twist my arm, I will say that she wears Daisy Duke-length spandex shorts and spandex tank or t-shirt.

Today I saw this other woman, who was working out with a man, and she had on nice gym pants (not the sweat suit kind, but the stretchy, not spandexy kind) and she had been wearing a t-shirt, but she took it off to traipse around the gym wearing a WHITE sports bra. Seriously, I learned not to do that when I was 12. Certain things are too visible. If you want to show off to your man, do it in the privacy of your own bedroom. I’m sure he doesn’t want the other men to be looking at your nipples anyway. Oh she had a nice body and she was cute, but really…And she was probably older than me.

This is the YMCA, people, not Bally’s or Gold’s or Lifetime Fitness. The Y is for families and you can go to the meat market at one of those other places.

I can go on and on about these things at the gym. This post would be way too fucking long. I will save them for another post.