Dear creepy old dude that kept staring at me at 24 Hour Fitness (and any other guy who enjoys awkwardly checking out girls):
It’s gut-churning to be checking me out at all, but when I am a sopping, pit stained mess of disgustingness, well that just hits a whole new level of “puke in my mouth.”
One would think you’d try to be a tad more discreet in your lingering looks, considering you’re on the elliptical directly next to mine. I am not flattered that Old Man River is paying such close attention to what I’m doing. It only makes me think you’re a total perv who owns a white van.
I’d greatly appreciate you keeping your eyes glued to that newspaper of yours so I can wipe the sweat out of my cleavage in peace.
That reminds me of another Chester the Molester moment while on tour with the dance company I used to work for. I was on the most ghetto stair stepper imaginable located in the dingiest, darkest, narrowest, basement gym I’ve ever walked into.
Primo spot for a crime scene.
Anyway, all the cardio machines were in a line facing a mirrored wall so you could easily see the entire gym by looking in the mirror. About 15 minutes into my workout, I am all by myself till in walks Mr. D’bag. Right away I get this “off” feeling about him.
He starts up on a treadmill a couple machines down from mine and no joke, every single time I glance in the mirror, whether I’m looking at myself and noticing out of my peripheral vision or I’m looking directly at him in the mirror, he’s literally staring at me.
This goes on for about 20 minutes while I’m planning my escape route. (Yeah, yeah, I know I should’ve peaced out when that bad feeling first came on, but I really wanted to get my workout in.) Then I don’t know if he trips or mis-steps or what, but he seriously falls and the conveyor belt sends him flying off the machine! Baaaahahahahaaaa!!!
It. Was. Perfect.
He stopped looking at me after that and I left that creepy gym in the best mood.
And since we’re on the topic of gyms, I have a bone to pick…must you people at 24 Hour Fitness insist on keeping that gym so balls hot? I do not love the fact that about a third of the way through cardio, I’m just smearing the sweat around my face because my towel is already saturated. Not to mention the ripeness, the funk, the jaw dropping stench the heat brings out in some of my fellow gym-goers.
I realize I’m not as aromatic as a freshly picked petunia after a workout either, but c’mon! The only excuse I can give these reekers is that they are what the Febreze commercial call, “Nose Blind,” where they are so used to the death-like smell, they are completely immune to it.
In conclusion, if you’re a dude, don’t be a Slimy McSlimerton and ogle girls. And if you are a little long in the tooth, don’t even think about eyeballing chicks young enough to be your daughter.
Because that’s gross.
Then, what if on top of that, you happen to be one of those unlucky few who are “Nose Blind?”
That makes you smelly AND gross.
And just like in elementary school, nobody wants to be friends with the gross dude, let alone the gross dude with the green cloud billowing behind him.