Rantopolis

Pulp Fiction day at the gym

As part of my weekly exercise program designed to keep my ass fat to a level that does not require a belt extender when flying, I work out once week with a personal trainer.   Said workout takes place at a very large gym which is exclusively used by many personal trainers to put their clients through a wide variety of torturous exercises.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I enjoy people watching.  Always have.  I tend to see something eyeball-rolling or laughter-inducing every time I leave the house.  (Like the time I walked past a woman on a major Chicago street who had tied her dog up to a random fence and proceeded to groom him right there on the sidewalk.  Not like a little brushing.  I mean like a barber shop worth of tools.  Hair balls flying everywhere.  How is that even normal?)

Back to the gym.  Normally, I see a few wacky things during the course of the workout, but today was full-fledged Clockwork Orange.  Let me share.

Exhibit A. New mom (also a personal trainer) decided to bring her baby in.  Baby was strapped into a carrier that was on her chest.  Trainer mom, would lift weights and instruct her client with the baby jiggling around the carrier.  Breast feeding could not have been far behind.  Two words.  Day care.

Exhibit B. Another female trainer was wearing short shorts cut up to her ying yang.  Put new meaning into the words “camel toe” if you know what I am saying.  Those things were so tight I’m stunned that the blood flow to her femoral artery hasn’t been shut off.  Three words: Buy a mirror.

Exhibit C. Walking in today, I see a muscular guy doing pull ups.  He’s got a weight belt around his middle which is pretty normal.  However, as I gaze downward, I see a super thick chain extending from the front part of the weight belt.  That’s my trigger to go into freak alert. He has two kettle balls dangling from the end of the chain.  All that was needed to complete the look was a mask, a choke collar and a gag.  A whole sentence:  The Marquis de Sade would have been proud.

Exhibit D. Lastly we have the jiu-jitsu class in the corner.  Have you ever seen jiu jitsu being practiced upfront and personal?  No?  It’s defined as a martial arts form that includes “grappling on the ground.”  (Ahh…that’s what they are calling it now.) Well, then, from what I’ve seen, no need to spend your hard-earned dollars on pay-per-view adult movies.  Just come to the gym.  Three letters. XXX

The lesson here? If you really want to get your freak on while building muscles and burning calories, skip the dance clubs and head straight for the gym.

Categories: Exercise torture