Gym – you’re there to work out!
I love the gym.
I know I’ve previously said I hated people that talked about it, but that’s probably because I wasn’t talking about it as well.
It’s a great way to focus, blow off steam and believe it or not, relax.
The one I thing I hate about the gym though, the thing that raises my blood pressure a little bit more than the exercise itself, gym twats.
They manifest themselves in fashion vests, with backwards baseball caps and even tights! Tights! I mean shorts are fine, tights on their own wouldn’t be terrible, but both together?
Some of them then proceed to shout loudly to each other, just to let everyone else know they’re in there. We can all see you, mate. You’re the knobhead that everyone is trying to avoid looking at – despite your best intentions for the opposite.
These Neanderthals linger around lifting hardly any weight, staring at themselves hoping to catch the eye of a female. They then wait until I’ve started my set to ask how many sets I’ve got left, to try and get ‘one over’ on me. To try and make me look weak as I struggle to pant out a reply.
Just wait 30 seconds, bell-end. I’m not rude. I follow gym etiquette and if someone asks me at the right time I’ll ask if they want to ‘work-in’ with me.
I don’t care who looks at me, apart from J, of course. The other day I wore a creased vest and a pair of shorts that have paint on them, and didn’t give a shit.
I am in the gym to work out, it’s not a fashion show.
Some people need to realise they are in there for the same thing.