The Downside to Better Gyms

Posted: October 16, 2012 in Rant, Self-Deprecation
Tags: , , , , ,

Yes, ladies and germs, in order to check the ill-effects of stress levels at critical, I have made it a priority to get my happy ass back in the gym.  You know, exercise fixes everything and all (and believe you me, it does).  Not to mention, finding that elusive half hour to an hour a few times a week has done wonders for my back– not just a non-destructive vent for stress.

Thanks to my genetics, I’m already toning back up from the damage of a sedentary career choice.  Luckily that damage was held to a minimum by a novel concept called “self control.”  That’s another rant entirely– but back to the mission to get my old body back (gimped ass wrist still hampering me and all) while preventing the urge to channel Wayne Brady in all of his glory.

The parts are still lurking... but....

It’s still there, waiting to be rediscovered… Ok– pay no attention to the situational sarcasm… the smirk… AND the sarcasm playing off the narcissism…
I just want *this* back in all its glory, I don’t have far to go, but Jill 2.0 is playing as much Hell on those plans as my work schedule.

Annnnnnnnnyway, when you’re all done mocking my choice of visual aid (or done wiping up the drool, your choice), let’s get back to the gym.  The gym is, as the title betrays, the very heart of this issue.  I work out at Nautilus, and as you can tell by the link– it’s not inexpensive.  In fact, if it weren’t for a smoking deal that I got on my membership, I couldn’t have afforded it nor would have considered it.

Previously, I’d work out with… we’ll call ’em D-Block and The Reverend.  It was a cheap gym, one of those 24 hour establishments, one that allowed us to sign in guests at a whim without surcharge.  There were no surprises with the old set up, before Jill befell her original injury.  Having a workout regimen and a running crew made it infinitely easier to get a hardcore routine, blah bla’ blah blah blah.

Now, I’m paying nearly twice as much for this gym (which does have far superior facilities) for diminished hours– and I can’t even sign in a damn lifting buddy.  Even this I can hack, and accept it as just an “adjustment.”  However, there’s one adjustment that just seems a touch too far– even a year after having had the membership.

Goddamn old man balls.

I know we’re all rocking various variants on the same equipment here (albeit with differing mileage)… but for the love of Alcohol– cover your shame!

Guys, I know we all have dicks.  We all have balls.  Some of us feel proud of their equipment from achievements past or present.  I get that.  It’s part and parcel to being a dude.  However, what the Hell gives with old men and locker room nudity?  I’m not a prude, in fact– I’m pretty far from it.  That doesn’t mean that every time I go to the gym, I appreciate receiving a complimentary steaming eyeful of pre-McCarthy-era cock’n’balls out for a stroll.

What is it with old guys holding court in the buff?  Is that one of those old-timey rituals of male bonding before bromances became popular?  I’m not going to apologize here– if your equipment is merely for show until you go full-on Cialis Cowboy– why the Hell are you wandering around with it (as well as the other extraneous gravitationally-distorted bits) flapping in the breeze like the rest of us don’t mind?  I’m so glad you want to advertise the inevitability of geriatric wasting…  however your *ahem* little public service announcement can get crammed back up your wrinkled asses at your next colonoscopy appointment thank you very much.

Newsflash: my corneas tried to kill me last night, but the only things that stopped them were my retinas– because they were pissed that the corneas let those wretched images through, and my retinas weren’t about to let those traitorous bastards win.

Old man balls, ladies and gentlemen– the very bane of “better” gyms everywhere.
Yes, I dedicated an entire entry to old man balls.

Ladies, does your locker room etiquette have similar nauseating disparities– or is it just Thunderdome in there?

Unplug.

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Comments
  1. Kat says:

    We have the same issues and then some. Saggy, wrinkly boobs hanging out, amazon bushes, left over everything from extreme weight loss… I don’t mind that stuff as much as the women who bring their sons into the women’s locker room. I can see a baby or toddler, but some mothers are bringing their older boys in as well. The gym we go to has a couple family locker rooms for that purpose. I don’t want some ten year old boy seeing me or my daughters

  2. Kat says:

    Changing and I don’t want my daughters to see that kid’s junk either.

  3. […] and fuck my fitness goals.  I’m coming back at least 20lbs heavier from this Roman […]

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