Yesterday was a lifting day. I didn't hit my usual time-slot and got to the gym at about 2:15 PM.
One of the people at the desk noticed my hospital socks and very gently and very professionally informed me that they were not allowed. He also added that he understood why I want to wear them. He also explained that they get a lot of high school kids who want to work-out in shower-slide. Shower slides have unstable soles and no side-stability; they are accidents waiting to happen when lifting. Ergo, only lace-up athletic shoes are allowed in the weight-room.
I think he was surprised when I didn't give him any push-back. "I used to be a supervisor. I understand that you represent the organization and that you have to enforce rules. Thank-you for telling me."
I went back to the locker room and put on my regular socks and my street shoes (which are athletic shoes) and went back and started lifting.
As I was recovering between my second-to-last set and my last-set, two young women started using the hamstring machine behind the dead-lift platform. That is where they lay on a table on their belly and hook a padded bar with their heels and lift it by flexing their knees.
I could go into great deal describing them physically, but it is enough to call them "The Doublemint Twins". You will get the picture.
I finished my five minute recovery and got on the dead-lift platform and squatted/bend down to grip the bar...and I felt their eyes on me. A quick glance around confirmed that the eyes of the girl on the machine had her eyes locked on me.
Six repetitions takes me sixty seconds. That feeling never departed.
It was a what-the-hell minute. Are they checking out my gluteus maximus? I wear baggy clothing when lifting but the fabric gets stretched tight down there when lifting.
The feeling was so novel and disquieting that I completed the last three reps with my eyes closed. It is entirely possible that I lost count of the number of reps and done more than six.
I immediately started breaking down the set-up after the last rep, pulling off the plates and she maintained her intense stare the entire time.
When I left the platform to get the sanitary wipe to wipe-down the bar, I noticed that the girl on the hamstring machine kept her eyes locked on where I had been....which was between her and the mirror on the wall.
Mystery solved.
Frankly, I am very relieved. I am wearing enough hats already and don't have time to do all of them well. I don't need to add teen "heart-throb" to the list.
Today's work-tickets
Pick up the yard.
Mow the grass.
Go for a run.
Weed in the garden for an hour.
Stretch target: clean out the bed of the truck
It's the little things in life that keep you young!
ReplyDelete"Teen heartthrob",feel that will not be a "issue" for you(or me!).
ReplyDeleteIf I were a motor vehicle, I would probably be a 36 year-old dump truck.
DeleteAt 74 chicks look my way all of the time. Well, it’s more like right past me.😜
ReplyDeleteThe perfect resume for a hit-man.
DeleteThat is the reason I don't trust my emotions. Waitress was winking at me one day. I got butterflies. When she pulled her eyelid, I knew she had a lash in her eye. Case dismissed.
ReplyDeleteJoe, it's better to think that she chose that machine in that location so that you could conclude she was looking in the mirror, instead of what she was really doing, which was checking you out. She didn't want to risk having you feel the weight of that female gaze, and be scared off. She's in love with you, Joe.
ReplyDeleteThere is a YouTube personality named Joey Swoll who shreds women who record people just like you and then post highly-edited videos and they call you "creepy".
DeleteI will be watching his channel to see if some chubby, midwestern guy with a but like a dump-truck shows up in any of those videos.
By the way, part of the MO of the people posting these videos is that they show up in twos...one is the bait and the other is recording.
Your “Doublemint” girls” gym experience is kind of the same reason I gave up golf. One’s butt is seeming always in the golf group’s view. You walk up to the tee box while everyone in your golf group starts watching, from behind. Then you have to bend over, with your butt aimed right at them, while you place your tee in the ground and the ball on top of it. Then, as you start the swing process that butt gets more action in the group’s direction. God forbid seeing someone on the tee box where the combo of them being hot and sweaty, and maybe their breakfast caused some “issues”, and they’re wearing light colored bottoms, has resulted in seeing more cases of poopy pants than any should have to endure.
ReplyDeleteMight be a good reason to start golfing left-handed. Doing things with your "weak" side is supposed to be good for your brain.
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