GYM: I know that guy.

After returning from an awesome stir fry lunch with Abby, a co-worker regaled me with tales from the gym locker room. A women with an obviously expensive breast augmentation refused to put her top on while fannying about in the locker room.

I rarely frequent a gym. When I have had an occasion to enter such an establishment I have been literally bombarded with reasons to leave. My work offers free admission to the neighboring Bally’s. Under false raves by a fellow co-worker, I was convinced to lace up my sneakers and get myself to a treadmill.

Jaime’s First Time at the Gym:
I enter with a keen sense of hope and dread swirling in my stomach. I’m careful not to look any of the stretchy material wearing employees in the eye because I am told the will try to “train” you on the spot. I slinked into a dressing room past a machinery crowed room heavy with sweat and desperation. Not two seconds after breaching the doorway’s threshold, I am face to face with a supremely naked woman applying generous amounts of moisturizer to her entire body; she will remain naked throughout her entire grooming process. There, next to her, sits a suitably large towel, taunting the rest of us from inside the locker. I keep thinking “put on the towel, put on the towel, oh Jesus, just put on the towel and please do not ask me a question.” She asks me a question.

Naked lady: “Excuse me, do you know the time?” She is very polite, which for some reason shocked me, I assumed the naked a rude sort; I was obviously mistaken.

Me (eyes permanently fixed to the floor): “err...ugh…I’m not sure. Sorry.” I ran to the bank of lockers and hid behind an open locker door to begin my Junior High School routine of removing and putting on clothing with out exposing a lick of flesh. In the distance, I could hear the women pose the question two more times until a brave soul answered and was subsequently engaged in conversation. I dodge a bullet.

Feeling confident and full of vigor from minutes of “bullet” & naked people dodging I headed out in the thick air to begin what can only be called an attempt to “exercise.” I tried the treadmill. Apparently I was walking all wrong because I got the attention of many stretchy material employees with helpful advice on how to walk properly. I had tried to explain that it was something I’ve been doing for some time, 25 years to be exact, with much success. At which, point I was then shown how to walk by a very large muscled man in red, who then tried to pitch me training sessions.

My only reply was: “to learn to walk?!” He laughed and continued pitching. Words were thrown around like excessive alcohol, couch potato, not in too bad of shape, full body toning, extreme pain you would never know again (I made up the last one)… In the end he felt that my “exercise prescription” should only be 6 months two times a week and he promises to burn my ass right off my body. I politely decline and continue “walking” the only damn way I know how. This scenario similarly played out each time I tried different equipment, getting chased off as soon as I started.

I haven’t been back to the gym since and my ass is still firmly placed on my body where is belongs.