Gym Tales

So here is a shocker. I enjoy the gym. I really do. As a stress head I find that it helps relax me. As a vain mother fecker it soothes my ego to see some progress on this hot body.  All of this is a great bonus, however, my favourite thing to do at the gym is people watch. Not that way you perv. I am not talking about salivating over all the muscle bodies. Well not much anyway. I am more interested in the slightly off beat chaps that you encounter. These folk can offer some serious comic value as long as its not at your own expense.

The other evening, during my stretches I noticed a girl next to me of a similar age wearing cow girl boots. I presumed she was on a quick demo tour of some sort checking out what the gym had to offer, but then I noticed the weights in her hands. Nope, girl just likes to work out in some western Daisy Dukes.  While we are on the topic of clothing - why do some gents wear jeans to the gym? recently there was even a chap wearing green cords. Not everyone in the world must subscribe the stereotypical gym wear of elastic tight leggings and tank tops but I do generally recommend wearing something at least breathable.  This guy looked like he wandered off the street, got confused about where he was and decided 'Feck it  while I am here, I'll take a turn on the treadmill'.

My hair, being long and luscious,  sorry not sorry, gets in my face all the time at the gym. Its not cute when sweaty hair sticks to your face. The struggle is real trying to keep it out of my visage.  I sometimes have to resort to the old top knot which I've been informed many  times does not suit my face.  Thank you brutally honest friends. However, to the guy that uses a towel and black tape across his head, Please just buy a sweat band. I know you feel you will look like a tough mudder knob but hey, Il buy one if you do.

To the old man who took off his shoes  and proceeded to complete his rather vigorous routine of exercises on the mat next to me and also nearly touched me twice with his dirty feet. I swear to god, both times it was as if I had actually dodged a bullet, the sudden fear as it came into my peripheral vision, all toes,  yellowing nails with a tuft of hair on the middle piggy coming right at me. The euphoric sense of relief when it landed just millimeters away from my leg. Thank you Jesus. I have one thing to say to you sir. Don't. Just don't. If you must, please at least wear socks, for everyone's safety.

The cleaner at my gym is too friendly. How friendly is he Ray?. Well, I witnessed this guy go up to a man who was standing by his locker, minding his own business, rubbing lotion into his body naked apart from his underwear. The cleaner  in question was brushing the floor near him, when  suddenly as he got closer, quick as a flash, he bent down took a big sniff of the guys leg and said rather loudly 'Oh that smells nice, what lotion do you use?'.  The man visible uncomfortable pointed to the bog standard bottle of Nivea on the bench next to him. The cleaner thanked him, winked and slapped him on the back as he shuffled past. I would like to say this was the only awkward encounter from this cleaner but I have noticed he likes to get rather friendly at the most inconvenient times.  I am currently half naked, surrounded by guys double my size and 3 times as muscular, I am feeling rather vulnerable mate, I do not fancy a quick chat about aftershave.

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