The Different Types Of People You See At The Gym
The Girl You Want To Look Like. Hey, how’s it going? What am I doing? Oh, you know, nothing, just maintaining my perfectly sculpted abs and extremely rare, genetically magical metabolism. I actually don’t even need to be here, I just needed a reason to walk around in my bedazzled sportswear and other things made of shiny latex and gold. Oh, I’ve broken a sweat! My goodness! It must be time to go eat a double cheeseburger and drink multiple martinis. Good luck with your unsuccessful workout, and don’t forget to check out my ass as I walk away!
The Man Who Makes A Lot Of Noise. Wuhhhh…. Sssssss…. Ahhhrrggg…. Blarfff…. What?! I’m working really hard. Don’t you see how many pounds I’m lifting? That’s like curling 14 babies. Human babies. I am obviously allowed to loudly groan my way through the alphabet because my muscles are more important than your workout playlist. Don’t pretend like you aren’t impressed. This body won’t quit, and neither will my incessant groaning. And no, you may not get a rep in while I wipe the sweat from my overworked jugular.
The Person Who Needs To Prove Stuff. You know who you are. You are there because you just lost a fistfight. You are there because you got demoted at Golden Corral. You are there because your wife turned out to be a lesbian. You are there because your high school reunion is next month and eff those people. You are there because you desperately need to prove to yourself, and maybe the successful people in your life, that you’re still worth something. So while you may not be able to brag about any other part of your current existence, at lease you can complain about it while bench-pressing your own weight.
The Lady Who Needs Four Cheesy Gorditas. Whew! Sweating feels so good. I just love to run and run and run. In fact, when I get done running, I’m just going to run home because I can and I will. I am like the energizer bunny, except I am way more fit and have better self-control than any bunny I’ve ever met. I am going to take my 94-pound frame and work it until it cannot possibly work anymore. Did you feel that slight breeze? Yeah, me neither. That’s because when I run past you, I am so quick and so silent you won’t even know anyone was there. Ninja runner. That’s what I call myself. Want to see something cool? Look how many times you can wrap your hand around my thigh!
The Guy Who Wants Your Attention. I’m a gymnast! I’m a break-dancer! I’m a trapeze artist! The point is, you need to watch what I’m doing. Watch and learn. Well, actually, don’t learn because I want to be the only one who knows how to do this, so just watch and praise me with your eyeballs. Go ahead, take this machine. I don’t need machines. My body is a machine. My skills don’t need added resistance because you can’t resist looking at them already. If anyone needs advice, I will be selling my Skills DVD in the parking lot. Look for the guy in the bright shirt with amazing skills.
So the next time you find yourself watching reruns of The View while counting down time on the stair machine, take a look around the gym. It’s weirder that way.
A | A | A
If you’ve been looking for a chance to say something then this very well could be it.
I wish to God I’d had a list like this when I was 23.
Answer phones better than anyone else has answered phones before. Relay messages so brilliant, they bring people to tears. Turn the coffee run into the choreography of Swan Lake. Become best friends with every intern and every underling and every taxi driver you encounter.
I remember taking the pen and notebook from that woman outside the courtroom, flipping to a clean page in the book, and writing, JESSICA IS SAD in big, bold, uncoordinated letters. “My sister is going to be a good writer someday! Look at how nice her lines are!”