Thursday, May 9, 2013

Sweaty McJudgy

The very last place you should go on a day when every darn thing under the sun grinds your gears is the gym. Against my better judgment I went there the other night. Night, as in, 11:00 p.m. As in, one hour before midnight. As in, the time when I should have been watching Friends reruns and eating Dove dark chocolate. But instead I decided to work out because it has recently come to my attention that if you don't want your ass to touch the backs of your knees or your arms to flap about wildly in the wind, you actually have to do something about it. You can't just bitch about not looking like a Victoria's Secret model while simultaneously shoving a block of cheese and a cream filled donut into your mouth.

Typically, I prefer running around my neighborhood, but given the late hour the husband thought it unwise to jaunt about with the rapists and murderers (one time I ran by the creepy creepers who hang out at the Taco Bell and the husband was not pleased).

On a regular day, the gym pisses me off. Primarily because I am the only one who sweats there. (If I owned a gym our motto would be, "If you don't sweat, you're doing it wrong. Also? Get out.") You should see the looks people give me. Disgusted, they are. Absolutely disgusted. Granted, I have no idea how I manage to sweat 10 times more in an air conditioned building than I do in the Florida humidity (just blessed, I guess), but are the looks really necessary?

It's a little (okay, a lot of) sweat, people. Not a spontaneous outbreak of leprosy. You can relax. I'm not going to get any of my disgusting salty drippings on you (though I am tempted to ring out my hair over your pimple-bedazzled back. Lay off the 'roids dude. Haven't you heard what they do to your jewels? We're talking raisins. RAISINS.)

Tonight, I came to a startling realization. The sole reason some women join a gym is to meet a man (yes, I realize I am the last person on the planet to become aware of this). It's not that I judge them (yes I do) or something I wouldn't do too if I were single (no I wouldn't), it's just that come on. At least try to make it look like you're there to work out.

They could start by removing the fake eyelashes. I have to believe that all that lash impedes their ability to appropriately assess the bicep situation in the free weights area. Just imagine what would happen if
the glue came loose, causing the lashes to dangle from Lashy McLasherton's lid and partially obstruct her view. She could end up selecting a guy whose brain is bigger than his deltoid.

*shudder*

Listen, I understand that if you're in the market for a guy, you don't want to reach the level of DEFCON disgustingness that I so effortlessly achieve. But is it too much to ask to tame ALL. THAT. HAIR.? And is it really necessary to have SO. MUCH. BOOB.? This isn't an attack on well-endowed ladies. Big or small, I take issue with boobs that are IN. MY. FACE. If I'm distracted by it (and I don't even want to get with it) I don't know how the men are even able to function (I think I just realized the actual reason for all the grunting).

Also, can the employees please stop molesting each other while behind the front desk? I haven't taken a gander at your employee handbook but I'm pretty sure it says that all shoulder rubs must be done during your fifteen minute break (actually, it probably says 'don't touch your coworkers because it's sexual harassment and AGAINST THE LAW.)

Honestly, I should just stop going to the gym. Clearly I can't handle it. On my way out, the girl behind the counter said, "See you later, girl." To which I responded, "Thank you."

Because the appropriate response when someone says, "bye" is to thank them.

No sound actually came out when I said the words, because what? people are supposed to hear us when we talk?! I'm not sure if it was a good thing or not. On the one hand, she didn't hear my stupid response. On the other hand, I resembled a fish who had the unfortunate experience of being introduced to oxygen.

Next time, I choose the Taco Bell creeps.

I realize this makes me sound like a big bitter bitch, and I promise I'm not. I was just in a SUPER bad mood that day and everything was pissing me off. Two days later I went back to the gym and was all, "look at all these amazing people trying to get healthy and better their lives! look at how effortlessly they climb those stairs and lift those weights. and not a drop of sweat! how beautiful they are. I LOVE ALL THESE PEOPLE!"

***
A huge special thanks to TriGirl for her guest post! If you haven't read It's Genetic, DO IT NOW!

Comment gems! 
Tri-Girl is the best! I think I would get along with your dad, for, as much as I'd hate to admit it, I'm a sucker for puns. 

those drawings are amazing... thanks for a new great blog to follow!


13 comments:

  1. the above is the EXACT reason I don't go to the gym.
    Oh and because it requires movement.

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  2. I just read that you went to the gym and couldn't read on because I so ashamed I don't. Totally go to Taco Bell next time- sweat there too.

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  3. I always hated going to the gym too because I would get so sweaty and winded. It seems like they don't expect you to actually work out at the gym. I'm also one of those people who actually eats at restaurants.

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  4. OK the fact that you run beats me.. Although now that I have a stroller I plan on employing it with the grandbaby this spring and summer ASAP. the last time I lost a bunch of weight was when I was walking every night..

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  5. A big, bitter bitch, you say? That is me TODAY! The evidence is on my blog.

    PS: I miss you.

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  6. I feel like I'm the only one who sweats on the treadmill! That's why, as soon as daylight savings time started (ended?...started...I think?...I digress) I started running outside again. And yeah, the people behind the counter. Yeesh. Also, thanks for mentioning me! Woohoo!

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  7. LOl no one has any business being in a gym that late. It's way past wine o'clock.

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  8. When I read Sweaty McJudgy I just had to stop by.

    I'd say the husband is a very wise man. That said, how come you're the only one who produces Salt Lake City at that gym of yours? Are you sure those looks aren't involuntary expressions of jealousy, because spandex looks so good on you? I get those looks a lot too and I don't sweat, so.... One problem solved. Let's tick it.

    Some women have eyelashes the size of an elephant. That makes winking to themselves in the mirror pretty hard work. I'd call that fitness. Are you sure they don't sweat ninja style? If they're standing in a puddle, it might be because they're not pissing their pants when they see you coming. Do you know what I mean? ;)

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  9. Aaaaaand now I want a cream filled donut. Yes, that's what I got out of this post. Thankyouverymuch.

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  10. As a single girl I do look for guys at the gym. While I don't go their specifically to find one and I do workout and sweat (though I'm constantly mopping my face) I did switch to a gym that had better prospects. At 33 and single I am very aware thaty I could meet my Mr. Right anywhere. Lucky for me I don't have fake eyelashes so my vision will not be impared if I should spot him in the free weights area. :-)

    Good for you on getting in the late night workout.

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  11. I sweat even thinking about the gym, but you lost me at "Dove Dark Chocolate" - over here, Dove make soap. I'm intrigued.

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  12. My name is Trez, and I too am among the super soaker style silly Mc sweat sweat (oh no you didn’t) damn right I did, not so splendidly supreme of the supreme shirt saturators.
    As a fellow master of all that is moist...no, that's not quite right.

    As a fellow drip dribbler... no...hhhmmm.

    As a fellow comrade of condensation...?

    I fucking sweat a lot too, so I feel your pain. And reading this reminded me that I really do enjoy your writing.
    Godspeed madam.
    You never know, maybe one day they will make a SHAMWOW shirt or something. Until then, be proud of being part of an elite group of people with superior sweat glands. We need not roids or untamed boobs.
    But on the realz, you could have at least said what up when you passed me at the Taco Bell.

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