Like it? Please share it!

ShareThis

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Weight Loss and The Horror


This is my weekly entry into my hard slog at losing weight.

This past week I started my food diary and it has been going well. I weighed in today at 194 lbs. This is good, the last weigh in I was 195.

I was at the gym yesterday and had a particularly disturbing experience.

Now this is not the usual gym I go to. I decided to go to this YMCA because it is close to my work. This Y is decent, it has all the necessary torture devices to do the appropriate "shock and awe" campaign to rid me of my fat. That being said, the only problem with my plan is that I had to shower at the gym after my workout.

That is a problem.

You see my normal gym has the individual shower stalls. Privacy.

The place where I went to yesterday had the old-school, prison style, group shower. Ick. And ick again. There was a shower stall for someone with a disability, but I wasn't going to use it. I have some pride (though not a whole lot). As long as I kept to my group shower policy I'd be safe.

My policy you may ask? While naked I have no eye contact with anyone and I don't talk with anyone. No way. I am there simply to embarrass myself and repress all those traumatic memories of the high school locker room. You may think that most men would follow my basic no eye contact and no conversation rule while being naked. Oh no my friends, you would be wrong.

At my normal gym it is a regular occurrence to see old, obese, hairy naked guys talking to each other in the locker room. They are very comfortable with being naked old, obese, and hairy. This is not right. Screw Universal Health Care, the real problem in this country are with these guys letting their "junk" swing around. Make a law. Make it stop. Now.

Thankfully, I was the only one in the group shower yesterday. I scurried back to my locker and quickly got my clothes on. I thought I was in the clear. Wrong. And wrong again. I was at the sink and something moved on my peripheral vision. I turned and there he was. A thirty something DWG (Dopey White Guy) with a slew of tattoos on his upper body. Ten years ago it made him look like a bad ass, now it just was... bad, really bad. The guy wasn't fat, he just didn't have a lot of muscle on him and to have the bad ass tattoos you gotta have the muscle. It was bad. He obviously had stopped shaving his chest because there was too much hair along... I'm going to stop right there.

You get the picture, I'm sure.

The problem (yes there is another problem) is that I was like a deer in a headlight while taking in all this raw sensory data. Not only did I make eye contact, but I looked for way too long while processing the aforementioned raw sensory data. My solution? Flee. In a controlled manner of course. But fleeing works a lot of the time.

The moral to this story? There is none...

because this is Purgatory.

2 comments:

  1. Very nice. I avoid eye contact in elevators, let alone locker rooms. You could literally kill someone next to me in either of these settings and get away scott free.
    "Yeah, I heard it. Sounded bad. Chainsaw, I think. No I DIDN'T look, thankyouverymuch."

    ReplyDelete
  2. I have more of a hyper-alert thing going on. It's a manifestation of the high value I've placed on not getting hurt.

    ReplyDelete

Google+ Badge

Pageviews last month