Clean & Lean: A Wimp in the Gym
I did something today that I never even considered before. I shaved and cleaned-up before I went to the gym. Perhaps it was my inner-metrosexual, perhaps it was just vanity. I did look like a hairy piece of shit.
As I was running on the treadmill, listening to
Calexico Wu Tang and watching subtitled episodes of The View and Rachel Ray Sportscenter I started to think, man, I look better than every guy in here. That's not to say I was better-looking or more fit, but they all had mullets and Walkmans (yes, the actual cassette kind) and I had on running pants from the GAP. I looked great.
What the fuck are you doing? I thought. Why are you comparing your togs to the dude on the butterfly press when there are some really hot young ladies jogging right in front of you?
"What are you looking at?" asked my wife on the treadmill next to me. Oh yeah, that's why.
"She's making clam chowder." I said nodding to Rachel Ray. I figured that was the safest route.
The gym is a funny place. There are women walking around in spandex that have no business, absolutely no business, wearing it. Their bellies bulging out between the pants and the top like a busted can of biscuits*. I don't know why they can't be more like the modest heavy-set men and just hike their sweats up over their gut like a classic pair of turtle-neck pants.
That said, I suppose I shaved prior to going to the gym so that I would feel better about myself. Little did I know that all I really had to do was make fun of others. Odd how I could have missed that since it's carried me this far in life.
Of course, I'm sure I made someone else feel pretty good too, for what I had in style I lacked in fitness, and they don't make ipods big enough to cover my weak ass. Maybe I should get a Walkman.
*I know, I've used that one before, but hell, it's funny.