Saturday, December 12, 2009

Going To The Gym: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

I exercise regularly. Not everyone knows this about me, but up until the age of 15, I was fat, reaching the weight of 200 pounds. I was the chubby kid, being teased about my size and the like. But luckily, one day in the locker room in high school, I looked down at my legs, and saw that they looked like flabby tree trunks and basically ate up my underwear.

And it made me do two things:

1) Start exercising.

And 2) Switch to boxer shorts. :-)

Five months later, I had lost 60 pounds and kissed my fat days goodbye. And though I spent several years working out entirely at home, in my early 20s I started working out at the gym and today still go there three times a week to lift weights.

And in my eight years of attending a fitness gym, here is what I have discovered:

I'm like a lot of us. I go to the gym in a ratty T-shirt and sweats or shorts, do my workout and leave. Whether we're men or women, we go to the gym, do our thing, and get the hell out of there.

Quick. Easy. Simple.

But then you have these guys who spend hours in the gym showing off how strong they are to anyone who will watch. They grunt, they swear, they do that "I'm flexing but I'm trying to act like I'm not really flexing" thing. They want women to look at them and ask for their help in moving heavy weights. They want other guys to ask them how long it took them to lift so much, so they can explain their diet-and-training regimen and feel important.

If you're like me, you roll your eyes at such nonsense. Because I know, a life.

And then you have these women who wear these ridiculously skimpy sports bras as their workout top, but they don't want guys to talk to them. Rather, they just want guys to look at them, watch those guys squirm as they try desperately not to gawk, and laugh on the inside at the guys' pathetic attempts to try and find something -- anything -- to say to them that sounds like the reason for speaking to them has nothing to do with the skimpy sports bra.

Now as a fellow guy, I freely admit: I look at the skimpy sports bra girls. I mean...hey. :-) But I ask my female readers: Does this make sense to you? Do you think your fellow females are helping the women's movement any by going to the gym in ridiculously skimpy sports bras and playing the "look at me and just try not to gawk at me" game?

I'm thinking of you here, ladies.

And finally: You got this thing where guys put their gym towels on the workout machine and walk away for 20 minutes. The idea behind this is to have dibs on the machine so no one else uses it.

Personally, I ignore it. I don't have time for someone to do a set of chest press, put his towel on the machine, and walk away for 20 minutes pretending to flex and figuring out what to say to skimpy sports bra chick. So I take the towel down, do my 1-2 sets, and then put the towel back on.

And you wouldn't believe the arguments I've gotten from people. "Hey man, my towel was on that thing!!" Yeah, I know. But you're nowhere in sight. And there's only one ab crunch machine here and, last I checked, you and your towel don't own it!! You don't want me to use it so that I don't "interrupt your muscle-tuning flow?" (seriously, that's what one guy said to me) Then hang around the machine and use it.

You know?

Maybe if I wore a skimpy sports bra, the gym towel guy would spend so much time trying to figure out how to talk to me that I could do my workout and leave before he could think of something to say.

Just a thought.


And now for this week's:


I'm a big believer in selling out. Unlike a lot of people, I don't look down upon a big-time celebrity who hocks stupid items for money. Hell, I would if given the chance!! Money is money, I always say.

But even I was cringing when I saw Mr. T in a commercial for The World of Warcraft. Mr. T, no one loves you more than I do, particularly after your depiction of Clubber Lang in one of my all-time favorite movies Rocky III.

But the mohawk grenade?

C'mon now. Times aren't that tough.


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