nothing tastes as good as being skinny feels, which is good because my gym makes me vomit

As good looking as both of my parents are, I can’t have genetics completely carry me through life. I attribute my rocking physique with biceps and calf muscles disproportionate to my tiny stature to my commitment to the gym.  I always checked that ‘workout box’ of 3-5 times per week with pride on my online profiles. Now though, I’m beginning to question how often I should be going to the gym, because like everything I enjoy in life, people have to ruin it for me.

i wish the situation was my personal trainer.

I’m a member of the Bally’s Total Fitness family. I have been over a year now. The membership is cheap. I can use my membership anywhere in the DMV. All good things! I’d find Bally’s to be the perfect gym if it weren’t for the cretins that go there. Forget the zoo, people are so terrible at the gym that I am tempted to brave the Maryland humidity and the swamp monsters that live along the Sligo Creek Trail than go up Viers Mill to Bally’s of Wheaton. 

Here’s a typical day at Bally’s. I drive to the gym after work, and I understand that it’s peak time. Rush hour. Needless to say, there is no parking. This doesn’t stop people from parking on parts of the sidewalk or on dividers. Now, I end up on sidewalks too when I’m not paying attention while I drive, but I usually don’t park on them. At least at a gym. We all want to park closer, but it’s the gym. So what if you have to walk an extra 30 feet—YOU’RE ABOUT TO WORK OUT ANYWAYS! But here’s the shocker: people at my gym don’t go to my gym just to work out. It’s apparently a new hangout. 

I don’t understand why you can’t conduct your social business at any other place than the gym. It’s like people who conduct drug deals at the library…there has to be a better place for this. I’m cool with a little conversation here and there, but overall, if I want to talk to my friends, I’ll meet them at a restaurant, or a bar, or even a Barnes and Noble (RIP Borders). At the gym, people sit on machines without running or lifting, and hold court with 3 of their other gym buddies. I’m sick and tired of this one guy who ALWAYS sits at the triceps machine and just texts for a while. Even when I glare, he doesn’t bat an eye and continues texting his pals. I’ve even gone up to him and asked him if he was done, and he said, one second, sends a text and then gets up. It’s just as offensive as people who text during movies. Don’t you go to the movies to actually *watch* the movie?!

I’m not always the most appropriately dressed person. More than once, my roommates have exclaimed “You’re going out looking like THAT?!”. But that’s different. I’m going out to a bar or on a date. I would never dress the way I do for those instances to go to the gym, but apparently I didn’t get the message on dress code. I’ve seen guys working out in jeans (a serious no-no from even my elementary school days for gym class) and work boots. How is that even comfortable? The ladies are even worse. They come in full makeup, ripped leggings, booty shorts and shirts that make Hooters girls look like they’re as conservative as nuns in comparisons. True story: I’ve seen nipple three times.

If they actually are at the gym to work out and not to get picked up for BJs by the Jacuzzi in the basement, they look like wrecks at the end of the workout. Their faces get smeared with mascara and they usually lose an earring or fake nail along the way. Even after a heavy night of clubbing, I never look that bad. They look like really glittery car accidents. 

Here’s where it gets gross. Seriously. If you don’t want to lose your lunch, I’d suggest you don’t read any further. 

Now, I don’t know what the men’s locker room looks like at Bally’s, but I can’t imagine it any better than the woman’s room. I could complain about how it’s always out of toilet paper and the bathroom doors never lock, but that’s commonplace everywhere. No. I need to discuss gym shower etiquette. This week, I have seen one woman empty her hairbrush and leave a nasty clump of hair in the middle of the floor. I’ve heard woman make audible noises of simultaneous relief and consternation while they take massive dumps. Since there is only one changing room at Bally’s (also with a broken lock), I’m forced to change in these very bathroom stalls that people have probably dumped their digested Baja Fresh burrito in. Filthy. 

Now, I’m no prude and I like the way I look, but that doesn’t mean I parade around naked in the locker room. I know we’re all women, and it doesn’t bother me if I see a boob or a butt cheek now and then. I’ll even be nice and say I don’t care what you look like. However, there is a time and a place for everything. For instance, let’s say I weighed 250 pounds. I wouldn’t choose the middle of the hallway on the way to the shower to bend over in a stretch to touch my toes. Naked. While straddling. To put it bluntly, if I looked any closer, I probably could have seen all the way inside her to see her soul. Now, I just want to throw acid in my eyes and my brain to sear out that image.

Clyde told me the reason he doesn’t go to the gym is that he hates the way sweat smells. I thought he was being ridiculous but I get it now. It’s not the sweat, but the people who are sweating that discourage me from going to the gym. It’s a horrible dilemma because I love working out but I hate the majority of people around me. Even in yoga, people are farting and eating. So much for my chi. 

I’ll still go to the gym since if I quit my membership, there’s no way I’d work out on my own. I’m not that disciplined or financially stable to start buying medicine balls and Schwinns. But, I will complain about the hoochies on the treadmills and the lazy men who sit inside the sauna for two hours with their phones in Ziplocs so the condensation won’t stop them from texting. After all, isn’t it better to look good than to feel good? And as good as I look on the outside, that’s how homicidal I am on the inside. So don’t you dare take my fucking AbBlaster…got it?