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02.11.2003 -
Tuesday
I hauled my sorry ass to the
Pro Club Sunday afternoon to flail away on one of those elliptical
dealies for a whopping 30 minutes (caloric dent: one Corona Light).
The Pro Club is basically Microsoft's gym, so it's enormous and
huge and glistening and the towels are fluffy and there's various
saunas whirlpools massage rooms tanning booths bistros tennis
courts basketball racketball Olympic sized pool you name it it's
there. I'm always getting lost, wandering around wondering where
in the hell the weight room went.
The Ghetto Gym I went to last
week for the Body Pulverize class is the complete opposite. It's
tiny. Everything smells like dirty socks. You have to pay for
towels, and you have to bring your own lock for the lockers.
The cardio machines don't have the built in water bottle holders,
boo hoo. And the parking situation blows goats. However, it's
5 minutes from Workplace so therefore gets a giant thumbs up
for convenience.
At either locker room, be it
the glittery cavernous luxury suite at the Pro Club, or the dingy
and cramped space at the other gym, nothing gives me a big old
squick like an unexpected close-up encounter with a Massive Bush.
Do you know what I'm talking about, ladies? When someone just
kind of...lets it all hang out, and you're like daaaaaamn,
girlfriend needs to take a weed whacker to that thing. Don't
get me wrong, I'm not a total wax-addict FREAK or anything, but
when it looks like your privates are being attacked by a wolverine,
or possibly a chow chow dog, you just might want to consider
a little delicate pruning.
I went back to the Ghetto Gym
last night for a - I can't believe I'm writing this - STEP class.
I don't know what possessed me. I've always sort of thought step
classes were vaguely related to cheerleading, somehow. With the
perky synchronized movements and the clapping and all.
Well, I managed to make an
utter and complete ass out of myself. I was the only person in
the room who didn't have fucking clue one on what to do. Just
when I thought I was getting the hang of it (ok, you step up
with the right foot, then down with the left!) something
else would get added to the mix. "Grapevine"? What?
At one point I felt like I had been shoved into the midst of
a vigorous Lord of the Dance performance - everyone else's feet
were these absolute blurs, throwing out Russian squat
kicks and shit, while I just sort of stood there and grinned
nervously.
I also was the only person
who didn't use their arms. Everyone else had these big swooping
arm movements that accompanied every step, while I needed to
fiercely concentrate on my feet, because I had one solitary goal:
do not trip over the step. Adding in the arms would have
meant certain doom - a sprawling, ass-over-teakettle face plant,
possibly ending up somehow underneath the bench...surrounded
by laughing Riverdancers...
Anyway. I made it through the
class (somehow I made it through-ooh-ooohhh). Maybe I'll even
go back, after some one on one lessons with Michael Flatly.
Of all the gyms I've known
before (who travelled in and out my dooooor...ok, enough with
the song lyrics), my favorite was one in downtown Portland. You
know why? For whatever quirk of nature or mysterious underground
network, it was primarily filled with gay men. Bonus! Pretty
boys everywhere to look at, and NONE of them are looking at you.
Ratty sweats and scary monster hair? Who cares? Certainly not
Adonis over there in the corner.
It actually took me a while
to clue in on the main demographic. I had sort of suspected,
but JB cleared the air when he visited with me one day. His "gaydar"
was going off in a major way, apparently. In typical heterosexual
male fashion (I am certain they cannot resist my manly self)
he said he wanted to tape a sign to his ass that read "Exit
Only."
Despite JB's occasional descent
in Neanderthalism, let me assure you he is actually very good
people.
:::
Squee! I preordered Pamie's book today.
go back :::
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0
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004
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