Mar 23, 2011

The gym

For the first time in my life, I am now a gym-member! And unlike some of the membership-holding but non-going people I've known, I am actually keeping up the every other day-routine quite well. Granted, I can only run on the treadmill for ten minutes (I can powerwalk for 90). The turquoise miniature handles weighing about a kilo each do make my arms tremble as if I was having a seizure - but I love it! Especially the people-watching. Right now my favorite to observe is the older obviously-surgically-enhanced woman who wears white (I repeat w h i t e) lace-trimmed leggings as sports pants and uses the machines only as chairs. Not that I blame her for the latter; I wouldn't want to sweat if I had spent an hour putting on make-up, and hitting on the iron-pumping men is surely more comfortable when seated.

There is apparently a lot of people who don't come to the gym for working out, they come to socialize. Like the striped-polo-guy who, without a care in the world, leans on the treadmill of a fast leaping man until he is bothered enough to press the stop button, take off his clearly visible headphones and make out a "YES?".

"Skinny girls don't eat cake. Skinny girls just eat snakes"

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