Thursday 14 May 2009

A Tale of Two Arses

I had no idea what I was going to write about tonight until I was half way through my workout tonight.

Normally I write a good chunk of these posts during the day at work - not really dedicating any time to them but just jotting thoughts down as I go. In reality this usually consists of a blank email until about 4:55 when I scramble a few words down. But I doubt that you can tell.

No time today at all, but I had a stroke of luck while working out.

Two weeks ago I spoke of a tale of three runs. That was more about me. Let me allay your fears by saying neither of the arses concerned is mine.

In every gym, there is the Gym Hottie. Well there's probably two - a bloke and a girl - but I only notice the women. And theyre different every time - it's just whoever is the hottest in the gym, and you know they're the hottest for two reasons, neither related to their physical attributes.

The first is the way she carries herself. Really it's pretty obvious - it's confidence. She will walk around shoulders back, assertive but not over-confident, quietly attracting attention.

Which brings me to the second reason: she's the one that every bloke in the place thinks is the hottest. Peer pressure is an incredibly powerful force, and you can tell without even making eye contact with other blokes. No looks need be exchanged - you can just feel the tension when someone takes the machine next to the Gym Hottie. They stumble ever-so-slightly when they hop on and off. Its a wholly observable phenomenon.

So, to the arses...

The first, it will not surprise you, is of the Gym Hottie. She was on the cross-trainer, which faces out to the pool. I was on the benches resting between sets of dumbell fly reps. I was facing away from her, and she from me. But I had a mirror I could look in to. And I have to admit it was hard to take my eyes off her but it didn't stop me going back to my reps.

But that wasn't all of it. There was a bloke on a machine between us, facing in her direction. The machine was a leg curl one. The bloke - a younger chap of about 22 I'd say - sat on the machine and I seriously doubt whether he actually did any exercise. Eventually he hopped off, I don't know why (she was still on the cross-trainer and I can't imagine he'd grown bored). A gym instructor replaced the young bloke. He was a bit older, late twenties, and was showing around another girl who was clearly at the gym for the first time.

The instructor sat down on the machine to demonstrate how it works, and he froze. I was listening to my iPod (I think Disco Inferno was playing at that stage), but it wouldn't surprise me in the least if he had stopped talking altogether and was drooling. I felt for the other girl.

When I finished my reps I hopped on the cross-trainer next to the Gym Hottie. I stumbled visibly when I hopped on.

Straight after the cross-trainer I jumped over to do some reverse crunches, which oviously involves lying down. It was then I was confronted by the second arse in question.

First, a bit of background. The arse belongs to a bloke who works there. He's a personal trainer and to be fair I haven't really spoken to him - I haven't had the need to. But every time I go there he is there too. He wears a polo shirt which is a bit too small for him - it comes just past his waist but not much further.

You might wonder how I, a flaming heterosexual, noticed that. Well, I couldn't help because of what he wears leggings - those "Skins" things - without any shorts. Basically I can tell what religion he is.

That's bad enough, but when I went to do my crunches, he was infront of me, facing away from me, bending forward and facing away from me, spotting for a chap doing a bench press.

And yet it got worse - today he wasn't wearing skins. He was wearing cycle shorts. Very short cycle shorts - essentially boxer briefs. Ew. I honestly don't know how someone - well, a bloke - could wear something like that at a gym.

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Now I should admit right now that my weight tonight had not changed. It's 88kg. Bugger.

That doesn't mean the story above was a distraction. To be fair I'm due for a haricut soon, and need to clip my fingernails so maybe that was a factor.

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