The things that the slightly chubby girl sees at the gym are often too strange to talk about, but today is an exception. She’s really not such a critical person when it comes to gym behavior because, after all, she is still trying to figure out how to enter and exit some of the weight lifting machines (and that’s after she’s read the directions). But on one particular day in December, she sees something that she cannot ignore. “No,” she thinks to herself, “This cannot go unnoticed. Humanity itself will suffer if this is not commented upon. I do this for Humanity.”
If the big men in the Baby Gap T’s make this girl giggle, the man she spotted on this particular day makes her want to turn around on her heels and exit the facility so that she can grab a tissue from the bathroom, walk out the door and then laugh so hard until she snorts and snot comes out of her nose (notice the preparedness for this event). He is not sporting a tiny cotton shirt but he has chosen, instead, a navy sweatshirt with matching navy sweatpants. So… he’s pretty well covered. Thank you, sir.
The girl firsts spots him while she is curling her twelve pound weights while admiring herself in the mirror- the flab is looking tighter; on second thought, maybe it’s just the mirror. He is lying on the floor, under a barbell that contains no less than two hundred pounds and he appears to be in the beginning stages of developing a large hernia. She would have called for help but quickly noticed that he was actually lifting something that was part of a machine- a built in spotter of sorts. In other words, the man could have gotten out from under this thing. Instead, he was choosing to partake in an activity during which he was very likely do damage that no chiropractor could undo.
And the noises. On a scale of one to ten where one is a cat purring and ten in a woman in labor being gagged by a malicious midwife, his grunts registered a seven, bordering on eight. Sometimes, near yelps escaped and were quickly silenced by his labored breathing. At one point, the girl and three or four of the other men (and yes, the weight area consisted of ONE female), gave in and flat out stared at the poor struggling soul in part pity and part sheer curiosity: Was he going to make it through this one?
After it was over and the man had moved onto jumping rope at an alarmingly, but not terrifyingly, fast pace, the slightly chubby girl was able to look down at the meager free weights clenched in her own small hands and smile, immensely thankful that there was no risk that she would have to change her pants after her workout.
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