Observations in Miniature – People in the Gym V

If you see yourself amongst these people it might be time to change your gym habits.

Little Big Guy (The Napoleon Complex) – Did you just walk under a bench without ducking? No, I’m not staring at you I just looked down because I saw you scurrying across the gym and thought you were a groundhog. You’re what? Five feet two inches tall and weigh two hundred and ten pounds? I’ll let you in on a little secret. Lifting weights isn’t going to make you taller and the wider you get the shorter you look. It’s a no win situation. If you want to attract women I suggest you stop walking like you’re carrying an industrial size can of SpaghettiOs between your thighs. You’re legs aren’t that big and either are your lats so stop holding your arms out to your sides like your carrying invisible luggage. That’s it, make believe time is over. Exhale. It feels good not to have hold all that air in your chest to make it look big doesn’t it? No, I won’t tell anyone you shop in the children’s husky section of Sears.

Aerobics Guy – Okay, to the left now and kick…no, whatever you do don’t fucking high kick. High kicking is an activity that is strictly reserved for female aerobics enthusiasts, female cheerleaders, and members of the Rocketts, none of which you are. And for God’s sake if for some reason you would have to high kick, to say defend yourself in a Ninja battle against a throwing star, make sure you wear some pants that cover your hairy ass. Speaking of asses did you notice the shapely behind of the woman aerobics instructor in front of you? No? Something is definitely wrong here. Did your mother dress you up like Shirley Temple in frilly dresses and red bows and call you little Judy? That’s sad but I’ll let you in on a little secret. You’re not a WOMAN! Get the fuck out of the aerobics room and take off those tight spandex pants they’re cutting the circulation off to your brain.

Senior Woman Trainer – I’m glad to see you’re still trying to take care of yourself. What I’m not glad to see is that sleeveless spandex shirt you’re wearing; when you walk in front of the fan the baggy chicken skin hanging off the back of your arms flaps in the wind like the sail on a pirate ship. Are those nipples just above your pubic line or did you drop Ju Ju Bees down your shirt at lunch? Did you ever hear of a sports bra? Another no no is that tights and spandex shorts combo you’ve got going on. You’re ass looks like a deflated volleyball and I don’t even know if Viagra stands a chance against that visual assault. Here’s a clue. Cover yourself up with a plain grey sweat suit and secure anything that might jiggle or flap in the wind. Got it? Good. Carry on.

Senior Guido Tough Guy – Okay, stop slicking your hair back and put the unbreakable flex comb down, you don’t live on the set of the West Side Story. And wipe the grease spot up your hair left on the bench. Yeah, I’m sure once upon a time, back when you delivered blocks of ice off of a horse drawn cart that you could squat half of what I can do now but guess what? Your sixty years old now and I don’t care who you were. And please wear something other than that wife beater over your odd shaped barrel chest and lose the ID bracelet and gold chains. Ditch those velour sweat pants and Adidas tennis shoes and would it be too much to ask you to wear deodorant? That natural musk you have going on just peeled the paint off the leg extension machine. Don’t fucking growl and grumble and say under your breath that I was never as strong as you. Because guess what? I can hear you and I don’t really have a problem with getting my eight-four year old grandfather to kick your ass.

Stretching Freak (Rubber Woman) – Did you just pull your head between your legs, look over your ass and smile at me? Okay, I get it you’re flexible. You’ve had your leg up on the treadmill for the last 45 minutes stretching out your hamstring. Do you know why Olympic runners stretch so much? It’s because they have something you don’t and it’s called MUSCLE! Earth to rubber woman you are not Houdini. Ease out of that wrestler’s bridge, untwist your arms, and put your shoulders back in joint. And for God’s sake wash your hair it looks like something the street cleaner drug in. I don’t know if you get some kind of buzz off the Zen vibes that emanate up through your stretched muscles but I’ll let you in on a little secret. You don’t need to pay $40 dollars a month to come to the gym and just stretch. You can do that for free at home and really I would prefer that because I have to keep stepping around you like an out of place piece of furniture every time I walk past the treadmills and it’s starting to piss me off.



Circuit Training Guy – One thousand seven. One thousand eight. One thousand nine. How many fucking reps are you going to do on that peck deck machine? Since you started on it I shaved three times and read War & Peace. And how in the fuck did every piece of equipment I want to use end up in your circuit? Every time I turn around you are setting a towel down on the exact piece of equipment I was going to use. Are you purposely trying to piss me off because I’ll let you in on a little secret…YOU ARE PISSING ME OFF! Your physique looks like that of a prepubescent girl so do you really think the circuit training is working? If your goal is to have a physique that looks like that of Pippy Longstocking’s then you’re right on track and I commend you for your efforts but that still leaves us with the problem of you hogging up every damn machine in the gym so I’m going to make a modest proposal. Stay the fuck off the machines I want to use and I won’t meet you outside the gym when you’re done working out and kick your ass. Sound fair? Good. Carry on.