Allow me to preface: just the other day I had a very, very angry gym rant. I was going to start a pit thread for all my anger, but there just wasn’t enough venom (and creative cursing). So thank you, THANK YOU! For allowing me to vent ::does Tom Cruise-esque couch dance:::
I really do enjoy going to the gym as I end up feeling quite accomplished afterwards. What I do not like about the gym is the creepy guys- and lemme tell ya, there is an abundance of creepiness at the gym. I don’t get what they are staring at, but I am constantly oogled (is that spelled right?) while working out.
I’ll be in my own, happy little world jogging away my sorrows while listening to Shakira on my MP3 player and reading Cosmo (What? Don’t look at me like that!). Then I glance up to see some guy across the gym looking me up and down (at what they are looking, I’m not entirely sure). Here’s my thing: if you want to be creepy and stare at girls at the gym-- go right ahead, but for the love of God: be subtle! When I look up at you DO NOT get that big, skeevy, perverted, child molester smile across your face. Honestly, is this an effective pick up technique that I am just unaware of? Is he expecting me to hop off the eliptical machine and run into his awaiting arms (topless, of course- that’s how fantasies work)?
Even then, skeevy staring can be ignored for the most part. But today- oh today set a new precident. DO. NOT. TOUCH. ME. I don’t care who the flying fuck you are. I hate, hate, HATE being touched by strangers under any circumstances.
Today I was on the bike (after running for half an hour, so I wasn’t pretty by any means) and a guy walked by and “bumped into” my boob with the back of his hand. I was startled, but hey- accidents happen. After all, there are pretty tight spaces between the machines. But it wasn’t just an accident was it, Mr. Creepy Man? Oh no! Because when I looked up at you, you stopped, looked at my chest, smiled that creepy pervert smile, mumbled a sorry (while still grinning) and walked off.
Even though I should have ran up to the front desk, I was too shocked to do anything. I kept biking for the rest of the half an hour, then I moved on to the various machines. While doing the pull down one (for your back and stuff), a guy walked up and said, “Hey darlin’, lemme help you with that.” “No, I’m cool. Thanks.” He then proceeded to put his arms around me and “show me” how to pull down properly (which is EXACTLY what I was doing before, but did involve his hands being under mine, his arms pressed against my chest, etc). “I TOLD YOU I am fine. THANK YOU.” He mumbled something about me being testy. How about you just don’t touch me or" help" the poor, helpless little girl unless she asks, k?
So, in my gym there would be bouncers. Big, scary, ex Navy Seal bouncers who would pummel creepy jerks into submission. And I could laugh. Oh how I would laugh.