OK, we all know I’m not at all a mushy, touchy-feely kind of person. I do enjoy my personal bubble. Family and close friends of course are excluded from this, but complete strangers…well, that should be common sense.
One of the reasons I love the gym is that I think the majority of the people that work out there have the same mantra as me: love thy personal space.
However, apparently creepy man didn’t get the memo.
I was at the gym today at 9:30, which is prime time to go. It’s not super busy and most of the people there are a part of Silver Sneakers and are a-freaking-dorable. There are a few people my age, but mostly, I’m the youngest person there at that time.
Our gym is an old movie theatre that was converted into some offices and the gym. In the main area of the gym, there’s a platform that makes a U-shape where the cardio equipment are:
From the angle this photo was taken, to your right, there’s a whole line of treadmills as well as directly across the way is another row with a bunch of treadmills. Today, I was working out on the one that you can see on the far left. Against the wall. And I was the ONLY person on any of the SIXTEEN treadmills.
With only ten minutes left to go walking on the treadmill, this guy, whom I’ve seen before, took the one right next to me. Even with fifteen other ones available, he chose the one next to me.
If you’ve ever been to a gym before, I’m sure you’ve seen his type before. And while I hate to sound so rude when I describe him, this is the only way to do it: He’s a little off, overweight, wears mismatching socks, stares at all the women and smells like when you leave your laundry in the washer for a few days and it gets that dingy smell. And that’s not even what bothers me. It’s how he works out. And I know, I know, we all have our ways of getting in a good workout, but… well…
He’ll get on the treadmill, make it go really fast, run whist hanging on for dear life to the poles for about a minute, stop, laugh obnoxiously at the TV, fiddle with his towel then repeat x20. It’s almost as annoying as the person who talks on their cell phone the entire time VERY LOUDLY. As if your conversation is important that the whole gym needs to hear it. “I KNOW IT GIRL! HE REALLY SAID THAT! IT WAS SO FUNNY! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE!!!”
No amount of Linkin Park can mute out that conversation without busting an eardrum.
I’ve been fortunate in my gym experiences with people who smell. I haven’t really encountered too many people who smell like B.O. or just grossness. So when I have super-duper-powerful preggo nose and I’m already breathing heavy from working out, breathing in that funk just wasn’t fun.
I don’t care when people work out next to me. Not at all! I mean, of course it’ll happen. I welcome it as a challenge sometimes. However – when there are plenty of the same machines available, that’s just rude. It’s just rude! And when you’re staring at me, staring at my belly and then oggling my breasts, I almost feel as if I have the right to punch you straight in the nose. Clearly, I know what your intentions were. I’m not dumb.
Obviously, it was a bad day for me to choose to wear a tank top, that’s for sure.
But I ignored it, finished and left.
I just hate when I get that creeped out feeling from people. I pride myself on the fact that I’m really, really good at reading people. I mean, it freaks Matt out how good I can be. So when I get that gross, prickly skin vibe from someone, it’s just not cool. And I felt gross. And visually violated.
I know there’s nothing I can do about it, and if it was really that bothersome, I could have moved to another one to finish and prove a point, but I don’t think it would have made too large of an impression on him. Common sense was obviously lacking.
Although, after I finished and went downstairs, my neighbor, who’s a personal trainer there, came up to me and said, “If that guy touched you, I would have been up there in a flash to kick his ass. Just so you know.”
Another reason why it pays to have good neighbors.