Mar 02, 2009 07:23
I went to the gym on Monday night last week, right after work.
Under normal circumstances, I don't like a crowded gym. Feels rushed and out of control. Monday is always a popular night, but it's also one of few days I'm available in any given week. So, you know. I soldier on.
This past week was traumatizing. First week I'd been on Monday since early January. Resolutionists! Everywhere! I'm not offended by their presence or their noobness, but gah. What the women are there for (I have no idea about the men, as most conversation takes place in the locker room). Lots of self-hate. Lots of self-weighing. Bitter laughs when the fat chick in the room tries to offer another perspective on their "oh I'm disgusting" commentary.
I will not be going back to the gym on Monday night for awhile. Even if the current crowd stays away from weights (gah, you might like GAIN A POUND OF MUSCLE) and opts exclusively for treadmills. Hearing people talk about themselves like that makes me want to cry.
On the up side, I've discovered that older folk, tattooed freaky people and weight training enthusiasts tend to hang at the gym Friday-Sunday. Which makes me a weekend gym convert, apparently. Heh. That's probably how all of those folk ended up there on the weekend.
practice,
giant fatty