This being California, there are A LOT of adorable cute girls in the gym, in color coordinated outfits and flat ironed hair. Heck I even saw one girl wearing fake eyelashes. They stroll casually on the treadmills, careful not to break a sweat that might smear their carefully applied makeup, or cause their silicone boobs to bounce in a way that gives them away as fake. They are impeccable. They are clearly at the gym to meet guys, which is fine. With only a very few exceptions, the vast majority of men who spend an inordinate amount of time working out are not my type anyway. The gym princesses only annoy me when they're faking a workout on the equipment I want to use.
By contrast, when I'm at the gym, I'm GROSS. I mean, seriously not pretty. My clothes are focused on comfort, and if they match that's a bonus. I wear my hair in any fashion that will keep it from coming into contact with my skin AT ALL, and like most fair skinned people, my face is usually a brilliant shade of red. I'd post a photo here but it would scare babies and old people. In fact, when I happen to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I'm horrified at how terrible I look.
So imagine my surprise when one of the guys I know to be a bodybuilding junkie at my gym approaches me with the following:
By contrast, when I'm at the gym, I'm GROSS. I mean, seriously not pretty. My clothes are focused on comfort, and if they match that's a bonus. I wear my hair in any fashion that will keep it from coming into contact with my skin AT ALL, and like most fair skinned people, my face is usually a brilliant shade of red. I'd post a photo here but it would scare babies and old people. In fact, when I happen to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I'm horrified at how terrible I look.
So imagine my surprise when one of the guys I know to be a bodybuilding junkie at my gym approaches me with the following:
Him: Hey, how are you?
Me: (looking around to make sure he's talking to me) Um, good thanks.
Him: What do you do?
Me: I work at the theater.
Him: oh..... you like bodybuilders?
Me: (confused) uh, sure.
Him: 'cause I'm a bodybuilder..... you ever dated a bodybuilder?
Me: (really confused) I don't think so?
Him: Like a real bodybuilder? extra buff with an eight pack, like this. (shows me his)
Me: (completely perplexed) No, definitely not.
Him: How old are you?
Me: Excuse me?
Him: You look 26.
Me: Thanks.
Him: So have you?
Me: What?
Him: You know, dated a serious bodybuilder?
Me: Nope.
Him: My exs all dumped me because I got into bodybuilding, you wouldn't have a problem with that would you? I used to be all scrawny but now I'm not and I need a girl to be okay with that.
Me: (laughing) good for you.
Him: You got any piercings or tats?
Me: Uh, No.
Him: Girls with belly button rings are hot, you got one of those?
Me: (shakes head)
Him: Oh. My exs all had those. What about tats?
Me: I said no.
Him: Sorry, didn't mean to offend. Did you ever have any?
Me: Does that matter? I haven't got anything now.
Him: Oh. I think it's cool you're in theater. I like good acting, are you good?
Me: I'm not actually an actor.
Him: You ever do any TV? Cause you look really familiar.
Me: I'm not an actress. Maybe you know me from the gym here?
Him: Maybe! I actually work out at three gyms around here though.
Me: that's nice.
Him: Not all gyms are the same you know.
Me: you don't say.
Him: So what's your number? I gotta get to the next gym. I do arms there and then core at Western.
Me: Why don't you give me yours, I'll text mine to you.
Him: sweet!
(He gives his number to me verbally, which I don't write down, acknowledge, or attempt in any way to remember)
Him: I'll text you later, girl, and we can continue this chat. Peace!
He jogs off then, obviously pleased with what he sees as success, and leaves me there looking for the camera showing this was all a big joke.
