The gym rat. I define this a bit differently than most. Rather than the person who regularly goes to the gym and works out hard, these are the people that regularly go to the gym and talk . . . a lot . . . nonstop . . . right beside you. I appreciate that the gym can be a social place, especially if you work out at a small gym and know the regulars, but some people just don’t work out. They are the women in full makeup, hairsprayed hair and jewelry or the guys who have some muscle built on top of fat which makes them look big and in between their lightening speed sets of six all they do is yap. To each his own, absolutely, but if you are on the machine I need or just standing in the aisle or next to my treadmill, I’m going to need you to shut the fuck up or move it along.
I mentioned this to a friend and the response I got back was that I should just politely ask if I can work in. This would likely achieve the desired result in that I would be able to continue working, they would move on, and I’d also be gently reminding them that it’s a gym, not a social club. This all makes sense, but I know myself. I would approach with every intention of saying this nicely, but what would come out would likely be more along the lines of, “I didn’t realize it was social hour at the gym, is there any chance you’ll be working out soon or possible vacating your barstool – I mean, weight bench?”
I wouldn’t take this approach right away of course, even I’m not that mean. It would more likely result after having to fight my way around said gym rat several times in the course of an hour or having to listen to whatever inane conversation standing near the stairmaster has inspired. After being an innocent bystander affected by the “all talk, no workers” I would likely go in to try to let them know it’s annoying and instead accidentally be offensive as hell. I try to control it, but I’m a fairly tell it like it is person and sometimes I say things out loud by accident.
Watching the women who come looking like they are on their way for a night on the town bothers me less because it is just so fascinating to watch. Somehow they manage to spend 90 minutes in the gym without ever actually completing a set. I don’t think I could work out that poorly if I tried, and sometimes when I’m not in the mood, I really, really want to try. These women are really more of a cougar out of its natural habitat kind of thing and therefore interesting in a strange sort of way. I’m still thinking hairspray and big hoop earrings probably aren’t staples for the gym, but what the hell it’s at least amusing.
My absolute least favorite of the gym rats are the guys who hit on you. I am at a gym. I am wearing workout clothes that are not cute, tight, sexy yoga type clothes. I am sweating and a bit breathless. I have no hairspray, jewelry and limited make-up (I’m still a girl, so a little foundation and lip gloss are musts). Please do not hit on me, even I think I look gross. Have a little self respect and wait to hit on girls when we are out and attractive. If you think I look hot when I am sweating and in a baggy t-shirt, then I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to handle the goods when they’re all prettied up. Also, just . . . NO! I’m at the gym, not the club, at what point did it become normal to pick up women here. At least do it at the grocery after the work out when we’ve mopped off the sweat, reset our pony-tails and freshens the gloss. Then again, you might just want to try working out. $70 a month is a pretty steep cover charge for a bar without cocktails and women drunk enough to want to go home with you.
In closing, let me just say that the gym is a public place and you are welcome to go everyday and never lift a single weight or visit the cardio equipment. I realize that it’s none of my business and I’m certain I have annoying habits as well. So knock yourself out. Keep chatting it up, but at the end of the year when you’re out $800 and your ass is still spreading you might want to change your game plan., just my thoughts.
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