Oh, Lookie! It’s January, so the gym is now stuffed full of people who have no idea where the locker room is or how to work a treadmill. Armed with ardent desire to turn over that new-year leaf and a list of resolutions, they come in their new outfits to the gym, where some of us have been toiling all year long.
To all those New Year’s Resolution-motivated gym goers, I say this will all due respect: You are totally pissing me off.
It was bad enough when the lady with the brand-spanking-new Lululemon jogging knickers took my treadmill the other morning. I could have gotten over that, but there were no other open treadmills because the latest flock of fair weather exercisers had come to roost.
Now, all I want to know, is when are they leaving?
In spin class, there wasn’t a single bike open. Do you know what it’s like to take a spin class in a dark room with 60 people sweating like it was freaking high noon in India? I didn’t either because usually there are only about 15 of us per class. Til now. How awesome for me that an extremely portly 20-something dude in a muscle t-shirt and a tenuous relationship with deodorant took a bike next to me. The grunts and splashes of his musky sweat were an extra bonus.
And, it was such a damn treat to find there wasn’t a single open locker for my winter coat, my purse and my $500 in cash. (By $500, I mean $5.00, but penurious Mommy bloggers deserve lockers too.) I am a paying client of the gym, who has been faithful and loyal all year long. I want a place to put my
Louis Vuitton hobo bag 10-year-old Target backpack. (It’s vintage, ya’ll.)
Don’t ask me about the time that Jeff was coming to pick me and the kids up at the gym, but he couldn’t find a parking spot, so I had to carry both of my children (who think it’s hilarious to drag their feet and go limp when it’s time to exit a building) over my shoulders to get home while Jeff circled the packed lot.
Also: I am still a little touchy about the night I got thrown out by management because I told a group of newbies that they “would probably always be out of shape so they should go home and fill out applications for The Biggest Loser.” (What? I thought they had star potential, and they took the last of the clean towels.)
The gym is my happy place, but only when there is room for me to stretch out, read the best magazines first (don’t make me wait to read that US Magazine all about Kanye and Kimmy’s spawn), and get on the treadmill that is closest to the water station.
I should be more charitable. I should support other people’s self-improvement projects. And I do. So long as they do it at another gym.