Since there does not appear to be any guides stating that I cannot talk about this and my gym membership did not include a Confidentiality Agreement, at least not that I am aware of, I fee pretty “OK” talking about this subject.

I recently started going to a gym. I did this mostly due to the wake-up call I received a couple weeks ago and shared with you all in the piece I wrote called “A Place in my heart.” Last night was my first time going there, and I will have to admit that it was not all bad. There were some things that I saw that I really need to talk about… let’s call it therapy.

Warning: Some of the following may be considered crass, rude, hostile or even just plain mean hearted… but I mean it in the most constructive way possible. Read it and comment on it, but consider yourself warned.

Many years ago I belonged to a gym here in Bakersfield named Bakersfield Athletic Club. I went pretty regularly until they were bought out by a place called “24 Hour Fitness”. To me, this was like finding out that my local Temple (Jewish) was being run by Saint Frances’ Catholic school for children with spastic rectal disorder. In other words, not a good thing. 24 Hour Fitness could ruin half off happy hour at the Mustang Ranch.

I digress… the above was not what I came here to talk about. What I really wanted to talk about are the items that people wear to the gym and some of the things you see in a gym. Trust me, they are not all good and some of them would send Freddy Kruger back to the pits of hell looking for someone to hug him.

First of, let me tell you how I dress to work out. It is a matter of utility for me, I am not there to attract the women, expecially since I have been off the market for almost twenty years. So my attire is usually a pair of sweat shorts and a heavy sweat shirt. Yes, I wear this all the time that I am working out, even in the summer. The object of doing a good workout is to sweat, right? For the ladies reading, I will call it “Glowing”, but for me, it is sweating.

I am also not there to have a discussion, so you will not see me chatting with other people. I just go in, get on the machine that I want to use and sweat away.

The reason I talk about what people wear to the gym is because while I am not not on the market and I am not looking for a date, I am also not dead. I will notice the ladies if they are pleasing to look at. Which brings me to my first point.

Ladies… just because you fit into the size 6 unitard, when you are actually a size 12, does not mean you SHOULD put it on. There are many reasons that you should not wear it.  I know that there may be something that tells you that this looks sexy, but that is the same voice that keeps telling you that one more banana split will not make a difference. IGNORE THE VOICE.  I have NO problem with large women and I have no problem with them working out.  I do have a problem with seeing things that are better left to someone else’s imagination.  I will end that portion of the topic with two words, and leave the rest to your imagination…  Camel Toe.

To be fair, I am not slender.  I am 276 pounds and most of it is in my ass and stomach, but you will never see me in the gym in bicycle shorts or a tank top.  Heck, even if I had a great body and was built like Bruce Lee, you would not see me dressed like that.

Guys… I have two issues to pick on with the guys who go to the gym.  There seem to be three types of guys that go to the gym… people like me who are trying to get our bodies back in some shape other that pear or “bowling pin”, who go in at regular times and work our butts off… hopefully literally.

Then there are the guys that seem to mistake the gym for a pick-up joint.  They go in and try and pick up on the ladies to see who might be available.  You guys are the reason that many gyms have created a “Ladies Only”.  These are the idiots that come in, find a machine next to a lady and start working out on it for no other reason than to chat it up with a person that wants nothing to do with you.

Then there are the muscle types… they go in and work for hours on the free weights.  You can usually tell these ones, because they lose their sense of anything but themselves.  when they walk around they strut, if they happen to walk by a mirror then they watch themselves walk past.  That alone gives me the creeps, because the way they will sometimes look at themselves, you start to wonder if they are have some weird homoerotic fantasy about themselves.

Now… I know that anyone reading this may stop and ask me about the issues that I have… and I do have issues.  I lack a great deal of self-confidence, I am ashamed of how I look, especially when I thing that I was once a Marine and did have a good body.  I am paranoid that others are watching me work out and whispering under their breath about me.  There… I am not perfect.  That being said, I do get out there and do the best that I can.  I am not getting any younger.

Please do not be offended by anything I have written about in this post.  I am venting about things that I think are silly.  You will have your own opinion, I am sure, but I am sure that there are things you can all agree with in this.  We have all been to gyms and seen things like this.  This is no longer the late 70s or 80s… there are no more Kelly LaBrock’s or Olivia Newton John’s bouncing around in leotards and leg warmers, images that filled the fantasies of many a young man, myself included, in those times…  I cannot speak to what you ladies reading this looked at and fantasized about during that time .  Two decades of gluttony have caught up with us all.

Now we see the gyms filled with people more like the Michael Moore’s and Rosanne Arnold’s trying to do the same moves, and it is scary.

Good Night, all… with all I have written I hope that you have no nightmares.

Samuel Wright
Writer / Father / Listener / Philosopher
I am a starving writer living in the backwater of California, in a place known mostly for Buck Owens and Valley Fever called Bakersfield.

This site is my release. A place for me to talk about things that annoy, please, or excite me.