Dispatches from the Gym
It has been a while since I last commented on my progress at the gym, the one with all the fancy cars outside and the impossibly fit personal trainer.
I have progressed beyond the exhaustion/vomiting in the parking lot point and have come to enjoy my workouts, actually missing them if I go for more than a day without sweating it out. My physique is slowly but surely changing; there are bulges now where there was only flab or nothing at all and my joints ache, but in a good way, a way that says ‘you are alive, you are getting stronger’ and also ‘don’t push it, you old fart’.
My favorite moments, though, are still those involving the locker room. There is something I find hilarious about all that loud, boisterous male on male banter and the imaginative and creative uses of the hair dryers provided by the gym presumable for us menfolk to dry their hair.
Just yesterday I watched in amazement as a towel clad individual, freshly returned from the showers, blow dried a basket of toiletries.
Two thoughts immediately came to mind: 1) what kind of man is it that has a plastic tray with his shower toiletries? and 2) what kind of man finds it necessary to blow dry this item before returning it to a locker? Presumably his locker is full of moisture-sensitive materials that would desintegrate upon making contact with said moisture?
I don’t know.