Oh no...

The gym and I are pretty much mortal enemies and the one place that I dread as much as a Doctor’s office. There is something so unappealing to me about hard mats and workout gear that reminds me of a bad BDSM movie, while people sweat and grunt while lifting weights and staring at themselves in the mirror and getting small erections. But lately I have been realizing that my thighs are high-fiving each other a bit more than they normally do, so since I have been thinking about going to the gym that I joined 6 months ago, for the last six months, I have decided it was time to drop the procrastination and force myself into the torture chamber ruled by meat-heads.

                Today I got up in the early morning and got dressed for work. But just to make sure that I actually went through with going to the gym, instead of coming up with yet another pathetic excuse, I wore my work out clothes under my work clothes. Now let me explain to you by what I mean “work out” clothes. I dressed up in tight yoga pants, a spaghetti string shirt, and threw on a comfy bra, forgetting entirely that something called a sports bra exists.

After a long day at work, I banned myself from going home until I have at least spent an hour at the gym and arrived at the gym feeling kind of bad ass until I realized that my comfy bra was actually a push up bra and my shirt made my tits look like two muffins on display at a bakery. Considering that I was half asleep when I put on my workout clothes this morning before work, it didn’t come to a shock to me that I had accidentally made myself look like a twenty-something year old horny club girl without meaning to. So in order to regain a morsel of my dignity back, I tried to pull my shirt a bit higher over my “breasticals,” hoping that I in some way I can cover the fact that Victoria is no longer a Secret.

                Walking into the gym was a bit overwhelming and it was packed full of people that shot up steroids like a heroin addict shoots up their liquid version of “fun.” As expected they were grunting and grinding their teeth, while staring at themselves in the mirrors, switching from one torture device to the next and I am pretty sure that I had more fat on my butt cheek than all of their bodies combined.

After walking through a maze of clanking metal devices-- half of which look like they could throw out my back--I finally sighed in relief when I came across a treadmill. I began the treadmill at a steady walk listening to dubstep and trying to keep my steps with the beat of the music just to make things more entertaining.  Finally I took things to a steady jog and looked up, getting a glance of myself at the mirror. It was then that I realized my boobs were not only bouncing around like an exciting episode of Bay Watch, but they were bouncing to the beat of my music. This immediately caused me to start laughing hysterically which caused me to get a few dirty glances from my fellow “treadmillers.”

“Okay it’s time to call it quits on this sucker,” I thought as I began to notice that I was drawing some unwanted attention and climbed off of the treadmill, trying to come up with an idea of what to do next.

I began to roam around this twisted metal labyrinth, looking at the photos of little men with different sections of their muscles colored in red and even gained up the courage to try a few of these devices, only to realize that I looked more ridiculous than ever. After several failed attempts, pulled muscles, and the feeling of outright confusion, I realized that weights and metal are just not my thing.  

Not wanting to quit just yet, I walked over to an area where no one was at, in the corner, on some very uncomfortable fake grass and began to do some yoga stretching exercises. I figured that since my muscles were all warmed up, this was the time to do some stretches and I since I was in a corner coated in green plastic stabby thingies, that I could be left alone to work out in peace. Shortly after I began my stretching exercises I noticed that middle aged men began to gather around me and work out, glancing at me the way that seagulls look at food. I tried to ignore it and continued to stretch until I looked over and saw a bald man with his mouth gaping open, staring at me with serial killer eyes. Now I am not just saying that he was doing push-ups or whatever people do at a gym. I am saying he was just standing there, with his fly trap wide open, and eyes burning holes into my body. It was then that I began to think of Hannibal and immediately decided that my time at the gym was done for the day.

Shortly after I got home I threw off my shoes and gave my dog a bucket full of water, watching him greedily lap it down. A light knock occurred on my door and when I opened it was face to face with two police officers, one male in his 40’s and a woman with a scowl on her face so great it seemed as though I was looking right into her dead sex life. At first I thought that someone had been murdered in my apartment complex but when they began to ask me if I knew about the recent cemetery vandalism, I realized that the only dead people they were talking about, were the ones in my backyard.

For all of those that don’t know, yes, my back yard is a cemetery and no it is not as creepy as you would think that it would be. It’s actually a pretty nice place and has really old tombstones dating all the way back into the 1800’s.  

As these officers were asking me questions my 192 pound English mastiff walks up behind me and vomits water all over the kitchen floor. I am not talking about a little burp of water-vomit that can be cleaned up with a napkin. I am talking about the pacific fucking ocean version of a projectile vomit out of my dog’s mouth and rushing towards and over my feet like a freaking tsunami. Immediately the female officer’s eyes got incredibly large as she stared down in horror at this natural disaster on my kitchen floor. I of course, knew what was happening as soon as I heard the burping sound behind me, but it happened so fast that I didn’t have time to react. So I just acted like nothing happened, while standing in the vomit, before politely excusing myself so that I can disinfect everything like a plague just broke out on my floor.