MeatPuffs

The Gym.Is.Hilarious. Nowhere else on earth can you find such an eclectic group of people allll trying to achieve the same goal. Look HOT. In general, I am a people watcher. I’ve always wanted to know everything about everyone and often wonder, “What’s their story?” The gym is a fantastic place to do this. Not only can you be incognito because you’re struttin yourself on the elliptical, but you can also have a soundtrack for this incredible journey all in the form of an ipod.
The gym is A LOT like high school. Puff. You’ve got your meatheads, your fat kids
(I may or may not fit in that category…depends on who’s doing cardio next to me!), your “wanna be” meatheads, your workout barbies and your couples. The best part about the gym is the outfits that these gaggles of gregarious gymgoers sport while lifting, spinning and running.
One corner of my gym is like a mini South Beach with a vast aray of wolverine like men in thee smallest tanktop you’ve ever seen on a man… all held together by miniscule “sleeves.” They’re pecs bulge out from either side and they walk like they’ve just been violated by something in their southern hemisphere. No thanks. Puff.
The other, more ridiculous version of a meathead is straiiiight outta Jersey Shore. They own stock in LA Looks hair gel and probably sleep in a tanning bed at night. These guys wear winter hats with those cute little brims perched to the side with huge sweatpants and a T shirt that they’ve intentionally shrunk 36 times in the dryer to get it just right. They probably played football in high school and think they’re still Captain. Go team! Puff. These guys make me want to vomit into my treadmill cup holder simply just watching them. Sure, they’re in shape and they’re there to work out, but the moves these fellas make is straight outta National Effing Geographic. “Watch carefully as the Lion (Meathead) stalks its prey (Skinny Bitch). He lurks through the grasslands (treadmills) and makes his way slowly towards his next meal (next conquest) and suddenly, BAM, ATTACK, the cheetah lunges (approaches carefully not to mess up his perfectly gelled do) and takes down his prey (idiot girl who thinks he’s cute and has never done this before.) These people need their own gym... and maybe even their own planet. Puff.
Fat Kids. I’m not commenting on the fat kids. They’re at the gym…they’re doing their thing. Good for them.
Wanna Be Meatheads. Ahhh ha! Hilarious. Probably my favorite spectacle at the gym. Often decked out with a bandana (which yes, I am guilty of once sporting the bandana…it was pink and it was cute! Suck it!) hugging their hedgehog like coiffe for dear life and usually some sort of lame tribal tattoo on their arm. They’re skin has never even been even remotely kissed by a ray of sunshine and they usually have some sort of perv patch growing somewhere sporadically on their face. However, these guys walk around like they owwwwn this gym, think that chicks love them and usually come in pairs. Keep an eye out. Puff.
Workout Barbie. I complain enough about Skinny Bitches so I will only say one thing. I seriously saw a skinny bitch with FAKE eyelashes reapplying lipgloss while taking a kickboxing class and flirting with the guy next to her. Nuff said. Puff.

I also have a woman in my spin class who insists on doing ballet mid class. Right.
Couples. There is ZERO need to make out at the gym. Puff.
With that being said, I wear my black pants and black t shirt and black jacket (imposter North Face Jacket) that’s covered in dog hair. My hair is still a little bit wet from the shower I took 10 hours ago and plopped into a messy bun and I think my granny panties may be suffocating. But instead of a bitchfest I write this as a thank you…Thank you to all of you fantastically ridiculous people at the gym for making my workout go by SO much faster, and to my ipod, for putting a soundtrack to it all! De-puff!