In my last post, I went into great detail on the douchiness of guys at my gym. As promised, because I am an equal opportunity guy, it’s time for me to call out the women. I can honestly say, that women can be guilty of many of the same things that guys do. But there are few places where they need to be poked at.
First, my cardio and your perfume do not mix. Ma’am, you have gone nose deaf. If not, I don’t even want to now what you are attempting to cover up. If I can taste it four machines away, it’s a tad much. A little B.O. is okay….it’s a gym. I say a little. Don’t get carried away.
Next, there is an entire gym for you to use. There is not some commandment that says over 30? Get on a treadmill and stay there. Same goes for the elliptical, the bike and the stair machine. Your paying for all that equipment and only using part of it. Don’t fear the weights. If you do, try a machine.
Muck boots. They are not cute. You are not a farmer. Do not wear them ever with your workout clothes. I don’t care if it is drizzling outside. This is a gym not a crab boat. Not a dairy farm.
Mirror, mirror on the wall…what the fuck are you about to step out of the house wearing? I am no Ralph Lauren, but women’s gym fashion has taken a strange turn. I don’t mind function. Lululemon, Fabletics, even the classic baggy sweatpants are all stock in trade for us gym folks. I lived through the 80’s. I am now reliving it in the gym. If you look like someone took Pat Benatar from 1985, loaded her into a cannon and fired her through a set of kitchen curtains, then stop. Rethink and try again. Guys, where are you when they are leaving the house? Especially if you are going with them.
Last I will close with this, if you want to use a piece of equipment, or the rig, and some gym rat is camped out there, don’t shuffle off to do something else. This is where being a chick comes in handy. Just straight out tell the dude you’re next. The combination of chivalry and mommy issues are sure to make him probably cut his set short, and actually wipe down the machine this time. I am advocating some controlled feminism (or rather just confidence and pride in oneself, no need to give it an -ism label).
The gym is for sharks. Don’t be a seal.