More “Interesting” Gym People

dd0672abb1bd79710735b1a790347b72Followers/ Stalkers will know that I recently joined a gym. Within a short timescale I became aware of a large number of odd characters at the gym. I wrote a post about them. You can read it here. I affectionately refer to them as bellends.

So tonight I discovered that there are even more bellends than I first anticipated.

The first one I shall mention is the first woman to have annoyed me at the gym.

The Woman Who Doesn’t Understand How The Gym Works!

I was working on a machine, feeling the burn, pumping ze iron and I noticed a woman sat on a machine that I wanted to use next. She was on her phone, sitting there as if she was waiting for a waiter to deliver her skinny mochachoca gluten-free, soya, sugar-free, chino.

It’s okay, I thought, she’s probably taking a breather. A breather that lasted over five minutes! She then left the machine and wandered over to another. As I sat down on the machine she had just vacated, I noticed firstly that she had left it very warm, and secondly that she was sat on another machine, still on her phone, in the start position but not actually doing anything.

Perhaps she didn’t understand the premise of this working out thing. You see, by all means sit on the machine, and yes, place your legs in the dedicated places for them, but you then have to move the machine. Sitting there and doing nothing, is not working out although technically, you can still update your Facebook status with, Britney is at – The Gym.

After five minutes there, she moved onto a leg press machine and guess what, yeah, she just sat there! I bet she talks a good training session though.

Meanwhile, in the free weight’s section…..

The Posing Body Dysmorphic!

In a rare event worthy of celebration, I manage to bag myself a bench. The bench faces a mirrored wall. I was doing my thing, when behind me I see the equivalent of a human pork pie staring into the mirror side on. Unlike many of his contemporaries who train in jumpers, he was sporting a sleeveless t-shirt. He was curling a barbell and then stopping and looking at himself in the mirror. He then got his iPhone 6 out to take some pictures. This really grinds my gears. I’m there to be working out, not as an extra in a backdrop of someones duck faced selfie to impress people in their friends list who couldn’t give a toss anyway.

 But then he stepped right next to me, messing about with his phone which for a few seconds was pointing in my direction. I stopped what I was doing and gave him The Look. Y’know, the one. Not quite the Freeze A Man To Death look that I’ve experienced in the past (Mrs G is a black belt) but my best attempt, (Yellow belt standard).

His attention is back on himself as he points the phone towards the mirror to take his photo. He squishes his bicep into the side of his body to create the illusion of muscle mass and takes a picture. The fact that he was resting his forearm on his pot belly and the irony of that seemed to completely bypass him.

Next time, maybe I should just photo Bomb with a bald grumpy flex?

Hello, who is joining us now?

A Gaggle Of Bellends

I don’t know what the collective noun is for a number of bellends. I’m going for gaggle. Well, here they are. Five of them, all pumped up, chest out, taking over all of the weights, claiming ownership of several benches and each of them acting as if they are the singular equivalent of ten men. They’re not. Their bravado, brash behaviour, arrogance and general bellendedness, (just made that word up) does nothing more than fuel my contempt. With every clatter of dramatically dropped weight, every grunt and every lustful glare at themselves in the mirror, as it interrupts my concentration, I just look at the twiglet legs that they don’t exercise and think….well, errr….. nothing clever, I just think twiglet. Could have thought of something more cleverly amusing there. Sorry.

Ah, here he is.

Mr I’m Going To Lift Ridiculous Weight And Probably Burst A Blood Vessel Or Pop Out A Little Poo.

There’s nothing wrong with lifting large weights. Nothing wrong with that at all. But not if you and your mate resemble Jack Skellington from A Nightmare Before Christmas! I see them coming over to the dumbbells and pick up 36Kg to do chest presses and then in the mirror, I watch them nearly pass out as they try to press 72kg. I just work with light weights in comparison and I’m happy. I’m working a rep range that allows me to work the muscle, build the muscle and I can control and know where I am. Eventually I’ll build the weight up. That seems like the logical thing to do. When you first start walking, you take it step by step until eventually you could walk. These guys must have been born with running trainers already on!

Last but not least.

The Grunting Bloke.

“Aaaaaagh!” “Uugh” “Hhnggg.” at a decibel level that even I can hear over the soothing sounds of Heavy Metal, my work out music of choice. Clearly, the guy on the bench to my right must be lifting colossal weights. I glance across just in time to witness the live action of a grunt. He wasn’t even lifting anything. This bellend was grunting just to lie down!

And so, with the gaggle, the grunters, the posers and the skinny strugglers, there was just too much testosterone in the room. I decided to leave before I grew a second adams apple.

I entered the changing room to be met with a naked Asian man sitting on a bench, picking his feet.  The flakes falling to the ground like parmesan. Mmmm Nice.

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