I like the exercise facility I use. It's low-key, has a small, reliable childcare room with both regular clients & staff, & pretty much every amenity I want. I am fortunate enough to be able go late mornings, which is the time I prefer to exercise anyway. It's never very busy, & I can always count on seeing the same, mostly non-offensive folks.
There are all types of people at most gyms across the country & you know who they are. You've surely all witnessed my least favorite: the muscle bursting, testosterone overloaded ass wearing his Zubaz & barely a thread for a tank top. This creature is the one whose workouts include a lot of loud grunting. It's either done for assistance in lifting an overloaded amount of weights or it's actually his language. It's the latter which, I think, might be the case since he's obviously never advanced past the Neanderthal stage. Then there's the female counterpart to that: the too tan, bleach blonde with her skin tight spandex, long manicured nails & large breasts. Sometimes these two are together, as The Kissy Couple. This is the couple who cannot bear to be 3 steps away from each other, & in between each of their "sets" they need to hang on each other in some lovey-dovey way.
Certainly, you've all experienced the Sweaty Dude. I'm not even talking about the treadmill runners who, I figure, deserve the right to really sweat. I'm talking about the middle-aged dude who's working at about 70% & still absolutely soaked through his clothing & dripping all over the machines. Personally, I'd go see a doctor about that. Have you ever seen the older woman who carries her purse with her from spot to spot? I wonder if she doesn't realize there are locker rooms. How about the old man, bless his heart for still doing his body some good, who exercises on the weight machines in blue jeans. You've surely experienced the Too Long Talker who you try to avoid at all costs because you've heard it all before & you need to move on with your day. I've currently got myself one of these.
The Perv is one who really freaks me out. Keep a great distance & never ever stretch on a mat even within view of this one. Are you a member of a Mom Clique? Not me, ladies & gentlemen. This is the inseparable cluster of Moms who seem as though they've known each other since the beginning of time. Each one's kids running amuck while they discuss their girls' nights out, their next play dates & pick-ups because, so far as I can tell, there is a lot of intermingling with families here. I am not part of this group, nor would I want to be. But just for the record, no one is welcome in this group.
I do always have to smile when I heard the infectious laugh of The Jolly Guy. This man is usually in his late 40s or early-to-mid 50s, quite portly, & usually quite hairy (not to be confused with The Hairy Man, who is fully covered in the black velvet stuff). He's a truly happy person no matter where he is, even when he's working out, which is a place you knoooooow he doesn't want to be. He just wants lunch!
On to a few more of the women: Here we see the older woman in her 70s with her permed & set hair, heavy make-up, gold jewelry, pointy painted fingernails & way, I repeat, WAY too much cheap perfume. Do not attempt to inhale in her presence. You will pass out. I'm not a fan of locker rooms. There's just way too much skin present. So, I steer very clear of the grossly obese women disrobing for their weekly float in the pool. I literally cannot even look at these specimens. I mean, I didn't realize stomachs could touch knees without completely bending one's body in half.
I am always pleased to chit-chat with the nice elderly lady, who really is just that....kind, classy & just plain genuine. I have, unfortunately, had my retina burned a time or two by The Naked Talker. My gosh ~ I can never believe it when it happens. This person is pleased as punch to stand in all her naked glory jabbering on & on about Lord only knows what because I couldn't concentrate to save my life. Put On Some Clothes.....please! Here's a towel! And here's another!! Cover up already.
And finally, I reach the moral of this story. Today happened to be a very unpopulated day at the gym & I found myself all alone in a row of 17 gleaming machines. I just set the Super Sky Glider XM9000 (or whatever it is) to my liking when I smelled him, I mean, spied him. He had sneaked in a side door & stood, in all his ickyness, evaluating his prey. It was, undeniably, The Stinky Stalker. Picture him, if you will.....a thin, short, balding man in his mid 50s with long, wiry, salt & pepper hair. Fortunately, we don't cross paths too regularly, & when we do, I try with all my might to dodge his offensive presence. I mean, HE STINKS! And besides his inability to bathe, he ogles me. Ick, ick & double ick. As he eyed the room, I kept hoping he would choose any one of the very available apparatuses that wasn't anywhere near me. I mean, now he had over 50 machines to choose from. But in a creepy, nonchalant manner, he sidled up RIGHT NEXT TO ME!!!! Now, in his defense, maybe he, too, enjoys a workout on the Super Sky Glider XM9000 (or whatever it is), but come on!! There are 10 others to choose from! It is, after all, unspoken gym etiquette that you leave a one-machine-space between you & the other person when it's at all possible. I refused to stand for this passive stalking, so I unapologetically closed my magazine, halted my gliding & moved to the very opposite end of the gym.......in proximity to other every-day exercisers just trying to do their thing. Of course, as I walked away I tossed a bar of soap in his general direction.
Directions: Lather, Rinse, REPEAT!
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