Gym Rats
So I was at the gym today... I know, it's about time. And I looked next to me, and there was this guy, clearly he had not been to the gym since the 1970's, and he had not bought new gym apparel since. The sweatband on his head would have been bad enough. And so would the bright white knee socks. And so would the bright white tennis shoes that matched the bright white knee socks. But, Dude... a handlebar mustache? Who told you that was cool? Because I know it wasn't me, or anyone I know, or they know.
And since we're on the topic, there is one other type at the gym that I absolutely cannot stand, and that is the girl pictured below (next to my 70's friend). I imagine that should I be able to carry on a conversation with her, she would sound something like those annoying party girls.
She comes to the gym, obviously not dressed for the gym, but rather dressed for some Saved by the Bell Jessie-Spano-Gets-Addicted-To-Energy-Pills version of the gym, where they wear their butt-length hair down because they don't sweat, and where their thongs hang out of their skin-tight yoga pants and match their shirts because it is actually an accessory to the whole outfit and not underwear (because, really, who can work out with a string in her ass?), and where platform Sketchers are clearly better than actual sneakers that offer support. Support for what? Strolling at a 1.0 pace on the treadmill next to her friend, carrying on a conversation about how mean Mr. Smith the biology teacher is while looking around to make sure guys are scoping you out hardly counts as a workout. It doesn't count as a workout for said friend, who is dressed in the exact same outfit (except her thong and t-shirt are blue and her pants say "SEXY" in rhinestones on the butt), either. And after that big 10 minutes on the treadmill, it is also not a workout when you walk around the gym floor looking for the weight machine which will make you look the sluttiest (the one that works out your thighs and requires you to open and close your legs repeatedly). Go home and tell your parents they are wasting their money on your membership.
The Gym "Rats"
And then there is me. I'm probably wasting my money too, considering the frequency with which I visit. But at least I don't look like I stepped out of Saturday Night Fever or Showgirls (Jessie Spano's later, much more cinematic debut).
And since we're on the topic, there is one other type at the gym that I absolutely cannot stand, and that is the girl pictured below (next to my 70's friend). I imagine that should I be able to carry on a conversation with her, she would sound something like those annoying party girls.
She comes to the gym, obviously not dressed for the gym, but rather dressed for some Saved by the Bell Jessie-Spano-Gets-Addicted-To-Energy-Pills version of the gym, where they wear their butt-length hair down because they don't sweat, and where their thongs hang out of their skin-tight yoga pants and match their shirts because it is actually an accessory to the whole outfit and not underwear (because, really, who can work out with a string in her ass?), and where platform Sketchers are clearly better than actual sneakers that offer support. Support for what? Strolling at a 1.0 pace on the treadmill next to her friend, carrying on a conversation about how mean Mr. Smith the biology teacher is while looking around to make sure guys are scoping you out hardly counts as a workout. It doesn't count as a workout for said friend, who is dressed in the exact same outfit (except her thong and t-shirt are blue and her pants say "SEXY" in rhinestones on the butt), either. And after that big 10 minutes on the treadmill, it is also not a workout when you walk around the gym floor looking for the weight machine which will make you look the sluttiest (the one that works out your thighs and requires you to open and close your legs repeatedly). Go home and tell your parents they are wasting their money on your membership.
The Gym "Rats"
And then there is me. I'm probably wasting my money too, considering the frequency with which I visit. But at least I don't look like I stepped out of Saturday Night Fever or Showgirls (Jessie Spano's later, much more cinematic debut).
posted by Jess at 6:41 PM
1 Comments:
You make me raff. um, I mean laugh.
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