I love working out. Since I was little I've been involved in team sports or doing some sort of exercise activity with my parents. I've danced, played soccer, golfed, swam played soccer and volleyball etc. etc. I love the rush of working out and how good it makes me feel and look. I attribute working out to help me knock off some of the 75 fabulous pounds I gained with baby and will continue to workout until they are all gone (and will still workout after that).
When I go to the gym I'm not there to look pretty and I'm not there to meet people. I'm there to get disgustingly sweaty- and oh boy do I sweat- and burn some fat. I don't "camp" on machines and I rarely hold a conversation for more than 6 minutes. Why six? I don't know. I've probably talked to some of my friends longer than that because I'm not rude and if I run into a buddy at the gym I always say hello and chat with them. I've always been this way. Even when I was single. I never went to the gym to meet guys and I never went to the gym in cute, sexy little outfits. I like my oversized t-shirt and shorts thank you very much.
One thing I've been noticing lately at my gym in Montana and since I've been working out at my old gym again down here in Phoenix is how much the gym is like a peacock mating dance. The guys try to show off at how much weight they can lift and then strut around with their chests puffed out like their arms are going to fall off. The ladies mostly just sit and look at them, pretending to work out.
Today at the gym I about popped some ladies obscenely HUGE implants because she sat on a machine I wanted for over ten minutes and didn't do a damn thing. I even went over and politely (with gritted teeth) asked her when she thought she'd be done. She told me five minutes. Yeah. No. All she did was sit on the machine I want and poke her two mammoth balloons out as far as she could until I thought her back would break in half. She sat, legs splayed, bowling balls a rolling and talked to some guy for-eh-ver. I wanted to go over and ask her how her work out was going and if she was feeling a burn at all 'cause she was working so hard.
Then there are the guys. I was sitting on a bench waiting for my dad to get done in the locker room and I watched this guy with python arms strut over to a lat machine. He made eye contact with me as though he wanted to be sure I could see how much weight he could handle. Then he proceeded to put on wrist guards. He walked around the lat machine at least three times as though he were sizing up his competition. Sitting down on the machine he began his routine. I will admit he could left a heck of a lot more weight than me but I'm pretty sure the yells he did were a little unecessary. Plus, he only did seven reps and then puffed his chest out like a champion of worlds and sauntered off to another machine. It was all I could do to keep from laughing.
There are so many good stories to discuss about the people at my parents gym that I really am just going to pick out those two for today and let your imagination run free as to the other characters that inhabit LA Fitness.
There are some characters at my home gym, though, not nearly as many. I really like my gym because they have great group fitness classes- hello Zumba!- and they have a private fitness center for women only. I love it. But there are wacko workout people everywhere.
For example, every so often I venture down into the area I call the "Meat Market" where all of the males meet to work on their sweet guns. And by guns I mean arms. Duh.
I don't venture down there a lot and when I do I try to time it so there are the least amount of people down there as possible. I don't think of myself as pretty- I'm a 5'11 redhead for heavens sake. I'm the closest thing to an Amazon Warrioress these guys will ever see. So maybe they are afraid of me and the 40 -60 pounds I lift compared to their 100-200 (woowee), but I have got the prickly feeling on my neck down there from being ogled. There is one body builder lady down there all of the time. She's short but built thanks to hours upon hours of lifting. Her leg muscles could crush my skull. She also thinks chalk helps her look like a B.A.
Sidenote: in an effort to cut back on my swearing I've started abbreviating my swear words. For example, B.A. Stands for Bad A**. End side note.
So this lady usually wears all black and then is covered from head to toe in chalk. Yuck. But I admire the fact that she works out as hard as she does, I've only been annoyed by her and her chatting once but that was the only time. I don't want to talk about her too much, I'm afraid she'll crush me. She really is ripped.
There are also some ladies in my Zumba class that slightly annoy me with their cutsy little outfits and H.A. (Again, abbreviation: Half A** attempts) at the workout. Two weeks ago in a Zumba class I almost had to leave to keep from laughing out loud. This lady came in super late. She is one of the few women in the class that I know have implants- they are big ones by Montana standards and she dresses those puppies to the nines. I'm always worried one will slip out so I just keep my eyes down and Zumba my heart out. This day was no different. She had on a tiny little halter top and tiny little spandex shorts and some cutsy little ribbon in her hair. Meanwhile I'm standing next to her in a t-shirt and shirts, casually scratching my unshaven legs and looking at the massive frizz-ball of hair surrounding my head. She didn't really attract all that much of my attention until we came to a dance move where she kind of improvised and basically flipped her hair in my face for like two minutes. No joke. She didn't have it pulled back and its long and poofy so it was all up in my personal face space. After the class the instructor came up to me and said she almost lost it when she saw my facial expressions and what was happening. We shared a good laugh.
But, for the most part, my gym at home rocks. Granted, the one down here in Phoenix is very, very entertaining. But, I do miss my gym at home. Very few implants, very few oglers, very few campers, very few creepers, very few look-a-like characters from Jersey Shore.
But it does make for some fun writing