Friday, March 13, 2009

The Torture Chamber

My mom always calls the gym the torture chamber, and after today, I think she might be on to something. I've been going to gyms since college and I've never seen such disgusting people as I have at my local gym. Sure, the good ol' YMCA in Kennett Square, PA had it's fair share of gross people. (Although, I went to high school with most of them so that could attribute to my perception of them.) And then there was the gym in Salt Lake, which actually was a gay night club. (Though I have to admit watching grown men hit on each other was sort of entertaining while I was trapped on a treadmill.)

No, the real winner for the most disgusting gym would have to go to the Santa Monica 24 hour Fitness. Why do you ask? Well, for example, today while I was lifting a man wearing (and I'm not kidding) a striped SWEATER and jeans was lifting next to me. When he got up the entire bench was soaked in his sweat, which mind you had to seep through a wool SWEATER and JEANS! That's insane sweat. I just looked at the bench and then looked at him and then looked at the bench and then looked at him. (I want to give you a real play by play.) I thought my best "passive-aggressive evil eye" would be good enough, but he just shrugged his shoulders and moved to the machines upstairs. I felt like I was going to gag. Then as if I couldn't be disturbed more I looked over to the elliptical machine and saw a guy lip syncing to his Ipod while he gyrated his body back and forth. I, being one who was never good at not staring, just watched him in disbelief.

So, Mom I apologize for doubting you. You were is a torture chamber.

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