Open Letter to My Gym-Mates

Dear Gym-mates,

I’m sure you’re unaware of how difficult it was for me to even go to the gym the other morning, and truly, that’s not your problem. My trouble may be that there are only two kinds of people at the gym. The fit kind and the… the… the fluffy kind trying to become the fit kind. My point is, sometimes it’s very difficult for us fluffy to co-mingle with the fit. Do you think you could curtail your annoying habits so I’m less tempted to stay home and eat donuts rather than take a walk to nowhere on the treadmill?

To the woman on the elliptical 18 inches from mine – there are a few things you might want to keep in mind. First, when you’re going to be huffing and puffing next to someone you might want to consider a mouth rinse or at least a mint before you begin. But also be aware that I will be offended if your breath is overly minty and wafting into my personal space as well. Another something you might want to consider – even though most of us are wearing ear-buds and listening to the TV’s in front of us, we can STILL HEAR YOU when you sing along with your iPod. It might be acceptable if you were good, or sang more than half a line at a time, but, no… never mind. It wouldn’t be acceptable at all. Please only sing along with music that only you can hear in the confines of your car or a recording studio. Lastly, and this should go without saying, do not “WHOO!” and “PHEW!” every ten seconds. Yes, that guy on the other end of the gym in the free weights section is mocking you with his echo “whoos” and “phews!” and frankly, you’re both making me want to smack you in the forehead with my environmentally aware, stainless steel, water bottle.

To the man behind me on a treadmill next to my teenaged son – Maybe you should limit your football watching to home and not while you’re exercising. If I hear you drop another F-bomb under your breath when your team doesn’t score the way you’d hoped I’m going to grab the nearest disinfectant bottle and spray your tongue with it.  And please STOP popping your gum! I about gave myself a hernia trying to turn around far enough to see what was falling apart behind me. It sounded like the tread belt was going to fly right off that thing – but no, it’s your gum popping!

And to the rest of you fluffies and fits, how about we wipe down the equipment every now and then? That means you too, mister body builder guy with the bandana tied to his head a-la Captain Jack Sparrow. Nobody wants to sit in your sweat puddles just because you’re running from machine to machine without “time” to wipe them down.

One last note to the gym itself… don’t you think it’s just a little bit counter productive to have a snack bar selling cookies, muffins, danish and hot pizza three feet from the gym door? Or is this your marketing strategy for repeat customers?

I realize that it’s my own fault that I’m…fluffy, no thyroid problems to place the blame on here, but I am thinking of filing suit with Hershey’s for their almond toffee nuggets nonetheless. Much like suing McD’s for their hot coffee, (or their nuggets too, for that matter.) The only other solution I can see is that  I cancel my gym membership altogether and redirect the money to the new living room furniture I so desperately need. I figure I can spend the days sitting on my new couch watching an exercise DVD rather than sweating off the fluff at the gym.

Fondue Regards,

Sara