Observation 101

Well, like most fat, lazy American's I joined the gym 6 months ago and have barely gone. I often refer to the place as the circus, all though it has many similar qualities the circus would be more fun. I'm not getting any younger and I'm not exactly fat but to be honest my skin is starting to take a turn south, not to mention it would be nice to finally get in a bathing suit comfortably once in my life without making babies cry. Some co-workers and I decided we would get off our butts and go work-out during our lunch breaks, even if our lunch breaks are only an hour and it means sacrificing precious shower time to spend the rest of the day stinky. Right now, as I type this...I am in fact stinky, I'm tired, my muscles hurt and I can't think strait to save my life, but my protein shake is pretty tasty. Mmmm Vanilla cream.

When I go to the gym I am an observer, I'm quite good at it. There are lots of interesting people and things going on, like the guy with the old school redneck "BadBoy" logo tattooed on his bicep or the She-man who cleans the woman's bathroom, whom I still question her gender and am determined this is just a ploy to look at naked girls because she is really a he. There are mounds of fake boobs (pun intended) and beefy guys who look like there muscles could explode at any minute and knock me off my elliptical. After all the observing I do it should have come as no shock to me that I could be the one getting observed. I've been in a happy relationship for two years and we all know when this is the case you get hit on by the opposite sex a lot less. If I was unhappy in my relationship and didn't know it yet, I would actually get hit on more. The up side is I'm happy, the downside is I don't get the ego boost that much anymore, unless of course it's from my beloved boyfriend, which he does quite frequently (score one for the boyfriend!). The other day I was walking into the gym with my two coworkers just like any other day. I got a head start by going to the changing room to be met up with by my female coworker who had morphed into a bubbly school girl. "You just totally got hit on through me!" she exclaimed practically jumping out of her shoes. "Oh really..." I said very interested in the story, so she continued, "Yeah, you know that really happy Chinese guy who logs us in? Well he just asked me if you had a boyfriend and I told him you did." Good girl I thought but did she tell him he was big and mean? My prayers were answered, "I told him you had a boyfriend, he was big and manly, and that you guys have been together for a long time, and are very happy!" once again, good girl. I asked her what his response was and she said he replied with his usual happy manor and said "Oh darn, because I think she's FANTAAAASTIC." It felt good to know that someone had observed me for a good reason and it didn't come off as creepy. I snickered about it for the rest of the day. When I went home, I told my boyfriend the story and since then have not stopped saying "You know I'm FANTAAAASTIC right?" in which he replies, "Yes, yes I do." with a smile on his face.

So now when I go to the gym I don't feel so bad because I am not the only observer in the place. It may be a secret world we observers live in but it's far better than if I was to tell them what I was really thinking(that's what my blog is for). Now all I have to do is keep my pants from getting tighter.