Sunday, March 29, 2009

Gym, I hate you.

Contrary to the popular love/hate relationship that many people have with the gym, I like to think of mine as multi-dimensional. It's more of a hate/guilt/need/hate relationship. Surrounded by hate with as many sides as I can type, I go to the gym because a) it is necessary, b) it is a better alternative to nothing, c) I like seeing differences in my body.

It's also a great way to think about nothing while listening to pop music. I rotate between blanking out, blearily reading romance novels (preferably those in Large Print), and watching terrible Fox News. The newest trend to my visits to the gym has been to watch Infomercials on pieces of work out equipment. Yesterday, Susan Lucci from the ABC's All my Children introduced me to Malibu Pilates and the affordable chair that accompanies it. By tearing my eyes from the screen, I was leaving the "Malibu body of my dreams" behind.

Because of the cheap price, it is the most basic gym that one can ask for. It has TV, but you can't control the channels. There are no classes and there is no pool. I've come to expect 1/3 of the televisions to be tuned onto FOX news. (Cavuto, gross!) I watch it only to witness the poorest form of journalism known to man. I go home and cry in the shower. As it was previously a Blockbuster, I have proudly come to love my gym because of how awkward I can be here with almost no ramifications.

My gym is heavily patronized by the parents of my high school graduating class, and thanks to the recession - my peers in high school. In regard to the people, I was never friends with them to begin with so I am able to maintain my policy of silence at the gym. In general, I don't talk to anyone and try not to make any direct eye contact. The gym allows me to wear all types of headbands, hairclips, tank tops, and ill-fitting shorts that I so choose. I'm not looking to meet anyone at this local gym.

It has a steady traffic of people for different time blocks - which I have given names to according to their employment status. In the mornings, there are the crazy people. Post-9AM until 4:30PM = the most popular unemployment times, this is a popular time for my peers to come, often overlapping with the high school crowd that starts at 2:15 PM and also ends at about 5PM. 5-7:30 = after work traffic, if I can manage to stay away, I will. 8-10 = late night people who work out. This strangely includes couples that are my age, that I know. I try to avoid coming at this time as well. I often make it to the gym right about 2, right before the high schoolers roll in. The concept of working out in high school is foreign to me. After consulting many friends, it must be a relatively new thing. High schoolers going to the gym. Nothing frustrates me more than some tight, underage body slowly stepping on the elliptical next to mine while texting furiously. Young, pre-collegiate bodies do not need to do this!

This gym is located right in between two of the largest rival high schools in Georgia. Because of my usual time and appearance, I have been mistaken many times for being in high school , by the high schoolers that work there. Including one boy who won't stop staring at me. He is breaking my eye contact rules! Boy who has not yet graduated high school, I am at least SIX years older than you. That frightens me more than it does you, I'm sure. Please stop staring.

The barely-existant germaphobe within shudders at the thought of the gym. I keep anti-bacterial wipes and gels as close to me as possible. At the end of the day, I realize that the gym sucks and I hate it, only to go back the following day. SOMEONE GIVE ME A JOB.

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