We live in a crazy world of our own design |
I was at my local gym the other day and pondered upon some insights I have experienced in my quest for, whatever it is we’re all looking for at these gyms. I have a never-ending battle of the ever-expanding waistline that requires that I make regular trips to a health club, where I labor on an assortment of sophisticated torture devices that would give a medieval inquisitioner a nocturnal emission.
On every visit I cannot help but make observations about the intellectual fitness of our species. As I trudge away on the stair climber I would recall being a child and laughing at my best friends gerbil when it would run on its little exercise wheel. If that gerbil could see me now. Looking around at a gym is always interesting. I have heard the saying that “Spandex is a privilege not right”. And a gym with all its millions of mirrors is the last place that sentiment should be ignored. And for that matter how could it be ignored with a million reflections, at every conceivable angle, reflecting back at the offender whose spandex is stretched so tight that it gets that weird shiny look only spandex stretched to point of elastic annihilation can get. Unlike the olden days where gym garb consisted of a pair of gym shorts, t-shirt, and converse tennis shoes, these days you’d be looked upon as a freak if that were your choice of attire. Nowadays fashion and style are at least as important as your hairstyle. I know there’s some logic somewhere to explain the necessity of putting on make up and jewelry to go workout and get sweaty. I can understand the perfume or cologne. You see now your tops and bottoms have to match, and you have to have some kind of fancy ass tennis shoe better known now as athletic foot wear. There are even some clubs that won’t let you wear a tank top. I think that’s as insane as anything I have ever heard. That makes as much sense as giving airline passengers seat cushions that float instead of a seat cushion that turns into parachute. Another thing is all the screaming and weird noises people make at these clubs. It’s like some of these guys scream at the top of their lungs to say, “hey look at me, look at all the weight I’m lifting.” A couple of times I thought people were getting massacred the screaming was so loud. This one time I was doing some curls, and I could over hear this personal trainer telling this gal that in order to make an exercise more effective, it is important for her to move her elbows in a few inches. As I was going about my business of curling, I began to hear these moaning and groaning sounds. I stopped my exercise for a moment because there was a familiar quality to the moaning sounds that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Then it struck me, that moaning and groaning sounded like a female in the midst of the throes of passion. I turned to look and sure enough that female’s face was flushed and her upper lip was curled up with a light sheen of sweat on her face. I thought “wow she looked and sounded like she was getting…well you know. She then stopped and lowered her weight and looked at me a said, “I guess a few inches does make a difference”. I suppressed a chuckle thinking, “If she only knew what I was thinking”. It got me to thinking about what I looked like when I exercised. So I strolled over to the squat rack and knocked out a few reps while looking in the mirror. And Oh my God! I thought holy son-of-Batman’s-pancreas, I looked like I was trying to pass a kidney stone or something. No wonder women close their eyes during…well you know. I felt somewhat traumatized by what I had seen in the mirror, and attempted to complete my workout with as positive an attitude as possible. I swear to God the next time I hear an idiot fitness instructor or aerobics instructor say, “Don’t forget to breathe”, I’m going to explain to them that only dead people forget to breathe. Have you ever noticed those abdominal benches are the easiest place to fall asleep? I was thinking of getting one for my bedroom. I have been having sleep problems lately and maybe one of those Ab-benches would be just what the doc ordered. Now there’s the final problem with working out at the health clubs. You ever wonder about these little drink bars. This one club in Anchorage Alaska called the Alaska Club had an actual snack bar that served cheeseburgers and beer. And I can’t tell you how many times I would see people all decked out in wonderfully stylish gym attire sweating their makeup off only to see them enjoying a basket of fries and Bud Lite afterwards. It just didn’t make sense to me. You see what I do is go home, where no one can see me, and have a basket of fries, with a side of a double cheeseburger, garnished with a six-pack of Budweiser (no lite beer I’m a real man). That makes much more sense to me. I suppose someone could point out that by eliminating the double cheeseburger, fries, and Budweiser I could avoid the agony of visiting a health club all together. Well no one ever said life was supposed to be easy.{i/}{b/} |