Adventures at the Jungle Gym

January 9, 2010 at 4:08 am (Uncategorized)

It truly is a jungle in here…there are Tarzan wannabes swinging from the chin-up bars and trying to convince their fellow wild men that they can bench press their own weight, without bursting that bulging vein in their forehead. Ah, how I love the smell of testosterone in the morning…

I joined the gym to get healthy. I know that’s a really difficult concept to wrap your head around. I just want to come in, lift some weights, do some cardio, and re-define my body. So why am I looked at like Tom Cruise at a psychiatry convention when I venture from the carpeted border onto the anti-microbial mat that defines the jungle floor? Am I really such an oddity that you feel the need to stare? Are you afraid I am going to want to touch the 100 pound barbell you are pretending you can lift? I’m pretty sure being able to move 3 inches is not the full range of motion  that the exercise was originally designed with.

Seriously, the grunting is not really that necessary. I work pretty hard…I hurt…and I don’t really feel the need to draw attention to myself by growling like an animal. It seems that there is a whole ‘nother language being spoken, one I’m not all that interested in learning…after all, the vocab of this language seems pretty limited. Even Tarzan used his words when he was trying to impress Jane.

I know it’s not all that common to have a female enter the forest. We don’t grunt, we don’t try to show off, and we definitely are there to be all business. This must all be very confusing to you menfolk. I don’t expect anyone to try to understand. But it would be welcome if you allowed us a short stay in the forest without getting your peacock feathers in a ruff.

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