In case you're wondering, Mr. Gym Attendant, I'm that sweaty girl. You know, the one that your unfortunate eyes occasionally settle upon; to whom you respond with a half-shocked/half-amused look in wonder of the pituitary gland. You ease into your climate controlled atmosphere- set at a perfect temperature for your stationary position in your standard outfit of tapered wind pants and t-shirt celebrating some Boston sports team and/or mid-nineties high school football victory- while I attempt to crank out 30 drenched minutes on the elliptical.
I guess I should probably thank you for the extra loss of water weight during my workout. As you gaze at lululemon geared women, my grey t-shirt becomes darker and darker. To counter your steady irreverence for those working out in your facility, gym-bo, I find my way into the aerobics room, at an off-class time, to stand directly in front of a wind-tunnel fan and fruitlessly attempt to reduce my inner body temperature by 1 to 2 degrees. Yet you never fail to amaze me with the lengths you will go to stay comfortable in my (and, I should say, MANY other) super-sweaty midst.
I admire your chutzpah, your unwavering stamina to look sweaty folk in the eye and say, "I can bear your excessive perspiration for my own comfort."
1 comment:
oh and when it is a breezy (but still hot) day out, they love to turn down the AC and let the breeze hit them just right at the desk.
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