I went to the gym today. My gym is set up so the back row of equipment is all those horrible things called (and believe it or not, I have to really think hard to remember what they are called, which is what I'm doing right now as I type this) ellipticals. Then it's a row of treadmills (Gimme a T-R-E-A-D....GOOOOOOO! TREADMILLS!) (that was my attempt at showing how I love the treadmill so), then a row of stair climbers and stationary bikes and some other odd looking things with pads that I will probably never use. Beyond all that is the "real" exercise equipment for the "real" exercisers (like my husband).
Since I'm in the middle, I never know what's going on behind me. I can imagine what's going on behind me because I'm always thinking people are staring at my big butt and my wonky walking technique (I tend to veer at times). And I sweat profusely, so at some point, my pants have bunched up between my chubby thighs, and I try to casually shimmy the material loose so I don't keep feeling like the material is headed on up inside of me.
But other than that, yeah, I don't know what's going on behind me. What's going on in front of my is fairly amusing, and I think random thoughts about people, but I can't help that, and it only fuels my fear that the people behind me are thinking random thoughts about my pants slowly creeping up.
Today I had to use the bathroom before I left (I know, I know, no one really needs to know that, but it's important for the story). I might take this moment to mention that my gym uses super powerful hand soap that no matter how long you rub your hands together under running water, you will not get that dang flowery soap off your hands. I exited the bathroom and headed towards the last row of equipment--the horrible ellipticals--so I could walk behind them and head on out the door.
That's when I saw it.
I thought texting while on the treadmill was stupid. Was I wrong. There was a man with a Bluetooth thing stuck in his ear, talking wildly about something really important (Because it had to be really important to be talking wildly at the gym, yes? That's what I thought too.) On his back was a back pack. With, what I have to assume, but I must admit right off that I don't know for sure, a battery pack of some kind in it. Because I kid you not, he had some electronic thingy on the elliptical platform where most people with common sense would put a book or a magazine.
I kid you not.
Oh, wait, I already said that.
But seriously, I kid you not.
It really makes me think going to the gym will either give me tons of blog fodder or just drive me mad.
And I'm happy to report that there were no naked ladies in the bathroom this time. I fear the gym bathroom just for that reason.