The Meat Market

I have an addiction to exercise... literally. On days that I don't get to the gym (& spend what I consider ample enough time there), I'm not exactly pleasant to be around. Though my adrenal gland isn't the best working adrenal gland amongst the masses, I am so addicted to the endorphin high, that I'm totally off without it. Now, I know that there are worse things I could be addicted to (which I am, such as chocolate... which may be part of the addiction to calorie burning??), but still; all things in moderation.

All of that to say, I spend a lot of time at the gym. Therefore, I have significant opportunity to people watch, which is, truth be told, one of my most favorite pastimes. Watching people exercise (or in some cases, attempt to) is hands down, one of the funniest things. Put all of these people in a big room, with lots of equipment, various goals/levels/abilities, and then let them go. A plethora of humor ensues.

Not only is there humor, though, but a lot of flirting. And by a lot of flirting, I mean, people have somehow confused the day time hours they spend at the gym with the night time hours they spend at clubs & bars. I mean, honestly... there are people there (like myself) who are there to burn as many calories as possible, leave dripping in sweat, and arrive home with a stench strong enough to clear a store on Black Friday. And then, there are others... you know the ones, matching exercise clothes (that often don't quite qualify as clothes...), big hair, lots of make-up, and are visibly petrified of perspiring in any fashion. And then from the male side, there are those (like my kind of female) and then there are those who show up in cut offs, flex in the mirror, and spend more time looking at the spandex clad tails around them than they do at their machines.

Now, I may be mistaken, but the cover charge for a bar is usually what, like $5-$10? And they serve alcohol. And you just get to sit. Or stand. Dance, if you'd like. I mean, talk about easy. Furthermore, you're there during the late evening hours when there aren't other things that need to be done or that you could be doing. Right? Ok, so if that is the case, then why would you spend $60 on a gym membership, $100 on running shoes, $150 on a matching Under Armour sports bar/compression shorts get-up, & come to a place where people could potentially sweat on you. A place where you have to smell others hard at work. Am I missing the logic?

There are no work out clothes that are anymore revealing than clothes you can wear to a club, if that's the goal. But I will be honest... as much as I love that endorphin high, it's a truckload of work to achieve. Who wouldn't rather just sit around with a drink (of whatever type, my personal choice is diet coke & grendaine) in their hand? Sounds like a heck of a lot easier to me...

Finally, for the males at said fitness facilities who are there to pick up girls, please, please, PLEASE try to pick up the girls who are obviously there for the same reason. They aren't hard to spot, and there are plenty to go around. Please, please, PLEASE don't come try to talk to those of us who are kicking our own tails, headphones in, sweat pouring, and literally straining to get oxygen in to our lungs. I much prefer the pleasure of observing you look stupid, than having to experience your stupidity first hand. I don't want you on the machine next to me, because then I can't breathe and I can feel you breathing on me. I don't want you coming over to talk to me, so I have to turn off my iPod and lose my rhythm. If you have something to say, at least pretend like you're doing something and wait until I am done. Otherwise, there's a girl over there pretending to do abs in a sports bra and hot pants, just dying for you to notice. Thank you, ever so much.