scoot
i work out. it's true, i do those crazy things many people make fun of. i put up with the usual comments. sarcastic stuff like "how's it going tough guy?", "going to pump some iron, dude?", "why don't you flex for me, muscle head."
now don't get me wrong. people look down on working out for very good reasons: because the exercises are silly looking, difficult, and sometimes useless; because there's a stereotype, and a pretty accurate one, of dudes who run or lift weights; because self-improvement is masturbation. i understand this, and respect anyone who chooses not to do anything out of the ordinary to maintain or improve their, dare i say, "physique." lifting weights is not a natural human activity, it wasn't common before the 20th century, and the movements aren't necessarily found in most daily activities. people start working out for a variety of reasons.. some good, some horrible. i myself work out because i believe in lifetime wellness, i believe it relieves stress, i believe it gives me more energy, and i believe it will help prevent injury and other serious health problems. plus, i have fun with it. i find myself having to constantly defend the uses of exercise and a career choice that involves physical activity. but those who know me will hopefully agree that i don't pretend to be a macho weight lifter, and although i fully support being active, i try not to force my opinions on exercise on others. that's just too similar to forcing other ideas on people, from the simple preferences in music to the more in depth religious beliefs.. all of which i have serious problems with. no doubt, i'll try to get you involved in working out if you show interest (i once tried to get marc lifting in my younger years, but really overdid it in the very first "session"-- sorry champ), but i believe many people (guys) you find in a weight room to be pompous, self-absorbed pricks.
which finally brings me to my point.
i was quietly lifting by myself the other day, minding my own business, staying out of the big dogs' way, when i caught something odd out of the corner of my eye. there was a shorter, buff dude staring at himself in front of one of the 48 thousand floor-to-ceiling mirrors that line every wall in the place (a completely different ramble in itself). now this is not the weird part-- guys check themselves out all the time as they lift, which bugs me to high heaven too. but this dude, oh this guy, i couldn't believe it... he was actually standing there watching himself dance!! and not just a little bounce to the music playing overhead, either. no no no. full out raving, or what he thought was raving, i think. what a stupid ass. this idiot was seeing how he looks when he dances-- if his moves are dope enough, if his muscles are bulging, if his facial expressions are undeniably sexy... the whole shebang. not just one little move. not even a few seconds of dancing. repeated glow stick type moves, on and off over the length of several minutes. i just sat there in awe. it made me sick, really. i think i threw up, and then had to swallow it. jeez, i wanted to punch him right in the face, which proves i'm a muscle head anyway, i guess. oh well. yet another unnecessarily long and stupid story for me here.
also, and this is very important, i had no underwear on that day. good thing my pants didn't slip down to expose my peach halves. (i gotta end on a scooter note, don't i?)
i work out. it's true, i do those crazy things many people make fun of. i put up with the usual comments. sarcastic stuff like "how's it going tough guy?", "going to pump some iron, dude?", "why don't you flex for me, muscle head."
now don't get me wrong. people look down on working out for very good reasons: because the exercises are silly looking, difficult, and sometimes useless; because there's a stereotype, and a pretty accurate one, of dudes who run or lift weights; because self-improvement is masturbation. i understand this, and respect anyone who chooses not to do anything out of the ordinary to maintain or improve their, dare i say, "physique." lifting weights is not a natural human activity, it wasn't common before the 20th century, and the movements aren't necessarily found in most daily activities. people start working out for a variety of reasons.. some good, some horrible. i myself work out because i believe in lifetime wellness, i believe it relieves stress, i believe it gives me more energy, and i believe it will help prevent injury and other serious health problems. plus, i have fun with it. i find myself having to constantly defend the uses of exercise and a career choice that involves physical activity. but those who know me will hopefully agree that i don't pretend to be a macho weight lifter, and although i fully support being active, i try not to force my opinions on exercise on others. that's just too similar to forcing other ideas on people, from the simple preferences in music to the more in depth religious beliefs.. all of which i have serious problems with. no doubt, i'll try to get you involved in working out if you show interest (i once tried to get marc lifting in my younger years, but really overdid it in the very first "session"-- sorry champ), but i believe many people (guys) you find in a weight room to be pompous, self-absorbed pricks.
which finally brings me to my point.
i was quietly lifting by myself the other day, minding my own business, staying out of the big dogs' way, when i caught something odd out of the corner of my eye. there was a shorter, buff dude staring at himself in front of one of the 48 thousand floor-to-ceiling mirrors that line every wall in the place (a completely different ramble in itself). now this is not the weird part-- guys check themselves out all the time as they lift, which bugs me to high heaven too. but this dude, oh this guy, i couldn't believe it... he was actually standing there watching himself dance!! and not just a little bounce to the music playing overhead, either. no no no. full out raving, or what he thought was raving, i think. what a stupid ass. this idiot was seeing how he looks when he dances-- if his moves are dope enough, if his muscles are bulging, if his facial expressions are undeniably sexy... the whole shebang. not just one little move. not even a few seconds of dancing. repeated glow stick type moves, on and off over the length of several minutes. i just sat there in awe. it made me sick, really. i think i threw up, and then had to swallow it. jeez, i wanted to punch him right in the face, which proves i'm a muscle head anyway, i guess. oh well. yet another unnecessarily long and stupid story for me here.
also, and this is very important, i had no underwear on that day. good thing my pants didn't slip down to expose my peach halves. (i gotta end on a scooter note, don't i?)
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