I hate the gym. It’s just a necessary evil I cannot stand but go because I know it helps me. I also have the luxury of not having to ‘work’ in the real sense of the word. I set my own hours and can hit the best home gyms between 10am and 2pm. Any visits outside this time-frame and I regret it every time. It just gets too crowded and you have to wait for machines etc. Groan.

My gym is big, and from what I can tell, the clientele is mostly male. I picked this gym because it’s five mins from my home, clean, has a great variety of machines, but mostly? Because my physical therapist recommended it. I’m usually one of the fattest women there but don’t let that bother me. I also don’t dress the part, so it bodes well together. I’m usually in some ratty t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants that are typically covered in some sort of animal hair–dog/cat/rabbit/goat–pick one. and I typically shower after the gym, so usually I’m in some sort of ball cap. Yes, i am quite the dish. Have I got your attention yet?

Anywho, the point I’m trying to make here is that I don’t consider the gym to be anything more than what it is; a large air conditioned torture chamber that I pay to use. Not a social club, not a place to meet and greet. And certainly, not a place where any mirrors are necessary.

So today, I’m on my favorite torture device, the dreaded eliptical machine. There was nothing on television and I find it difficult to read on those things, so I just kind of zone out and watch other people without letting them know i’m watching. (a talent by the way, that I have mastered to an almost science)

I watched this guy walk the length of the room. Much to my chagrin, most of the walls in this place are covered in mirrors. Fifteen feet of mirrored wall, and a doorway to the mens room. Fifteen more feet of mirrored wall and the ladies room. Fifteen more feet of mirrored wall and the sauna or water fountain, whatever. You get the drift here. So I watch this guy walk and he is totally checking himself out in each and every single mirror. Talk about narcissistic! And it’s not like he was anything fabulous either. He had these little bird legs, and was bulky with this barrel chest that went right into his shoulders and shaved head. He reminded me of a giant thumb walking around. Yet, he totally scoped himself out in each and every mirror at each and every opportunity. I had to laugh outloud. You could tell he was liking what he saw too. Sucking in his gut, and re-arranging his shirt etc. I’m thinking to myself “Dude! You have no neck!”

Some of the guys shave their legs and chest. What is up with that exactly? And they make these grunting sounds when they’re lifting? I don’t make any sounds when I lift. An occasional gasp maybe, mostly due to the fact that I’m about to die, and am struggling to catch that last breath, but grunting? Notsomuch.

They keep telling me about these endorphin things? The rush you feel when your workout is over that is somewhat euphoric? blah blah blah…

Yeah. I’ll let you know when that happens…right about the same time they start selling ice skates in Hell I’m thinkin.