Monday, July 25, 2005

don't sweat it...

I went to the gym this morning before work. I know. I know. Unheard of. But I’ve got a meeting after work and I figured I’d just go in and crank it out, hardcore. (That’s Zoe’s gym terminology, not mine.)
I have two gyms, believe it or not. You’d think I’d be thinner. One right by my house and one right by work. The one by work is my parent’s gym and during the day is filled with a collection of trophy wives in designer athletic apparel and elderly locals working out in khakis and collared shirts. Each gym has entirely different gym etiquette and I generally abide by the highly unhygienic 24 Hour Fitness Rules. Apparently, that doesn’t fly in Mill Valley.
So here I am this morning, plugging away on the elliptical trainer, watching Maury Povitch while reading People and suddenly, I notice a commotion near the stairmasters. Apparently, one blonde with an appallingly huge diamond ring started shit with another blonde sporting an even bigger rock. I attempted to disguise my delight as I tuned down the volume of Maury and tuned into the catfight going on mere feet away.
“Are you out of your mind? Leaving a machine like that. It’s covered in sweat. Are we all supposed work out drenched in YOUR sweat?”
“If you could wait, like 4 minutes, I’ll go get my god damn towel.”
“I hope you’re planning on using the provided antibacterial spray.”
“Are you the gym Nazi? I didn’t realize my workout was being monitored.”
It is at this point that the sweater pushes her way past the Nazi and grabs some paper towels and antibacterial spray. For a brief moment, I thought she might actually spray the Nazi with the highly toxic solution and held my breath, hoping for fisticuffs. No such luck, as she sprayed the entire stairmaster and with great dramatic flair, wiped it down under the watchful eye of the Nazi.
The Nazi smiled at her immense control over the sweater. “Thank you.”
“You know, there were millions of better ways to handle that situation. I’m sorry you felt it necessary to choose the rudest.”
Ohhhh. I liked that. By this time, a mildly interested audience (in addition to myself) had tuned in. An older gentleman sporting a terry headband on the elliptical next to me leaned over and rolled his eyes. “She does this every other day. I think we all need to lighten up a little.”
Right on, old timer. That being said, as soon as I was done, I grabbed some towels and antibacterial spray and made that trainer shine…


lamar latrell said...

The only gym rule I follow is the 30 minute rule because I can't work out for longer than that anyway. Also, I agree with the masses. New Hair = Hot Beth.

Conan said...

Now this is a blog LOL...blah blah yada yada but fun. Best wishes...

Big Chris said...

hi beth,
first off, I read the blip and it was fucking hilarious. the gym
nazi / trophy wife about to fight with another trophy wife
would have been legendary. when people fight in public
its like car wreck you can't help but be interested. thats it
I want a guest pass to that gym to I can sweat all over
a machine and not clean it up just to see what happens. also
I don't think I can make strawberry shortcake night because
I don't eat cake and I have a double header tomorrow
night. thanks for the invite.

Anonymous said...

Oh so famous. You're on Badworker's Blog.

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