At The Gym

I went to the gym tonight after work.

Okay. True confession: I haven't been to the gym in about a month. Well, I have been. While in the throes of a Bad Cold, I would convince myself that I really shouldn't be taxing my body beyond the effort of fighting a cold, so I would go and do my kabuki theater stretching routine. And, the day of my job interview, I headed there after work to shower and change into the blue pinstripe knock'em-dead suit. But heaving steel? Not a lot of that.

But MAL is fast approaching, and I bettah work.

The first surprise came when I hopped on the scale. I was bracing myself for a bad experience, of course. Longtime Singletails readers will know that my eternal battle at the gym is putting on weight. Inside me is a guy who weighs 145 pounds soaking wet, and I do my best to keep him buried within. My goal used to be 205, but then I decided I'd settle for 195, and right now, I'd be thrilled to hit 190. When I was going regular to the gym over the summer and autumn, I managed to maintain over 185, but just barely. So tonight I hopped on the scale and it read 187.5. That's an all time high. It's been years since I hit that.

But walking away from the scale, all smug and all, I happened to think... I've noticed that some of my pants seem to be tight. I attributed this to the fact that it's freezing cold in these parts and I've been layering. But could it be that my size 32 waist is becoming a size 33?

Take note: I am not upset at all about this development. I like a man with meat on his bones, and I'd like to be liked by a man who likes men with meat on their bones.

And my workout! I was able to do all the weight that I last did four weeks ago! I lost no ground! Amazing!

So I'm feeling all good about myself as I headed to the showers. And wasn't I all yukkity-yuk with the guys in the lockerroom. (And keep in mind, in a gym populated almost exclusively by dads and high school athletes, I tend to stand out with my ankle to wrist chain tattoo and my cockring that never comes off. But amazingly, they're coool with that.

And I showered, then headed to the steamroom.

And there he was. It was the inconsiderate asshole from several weeks ago! Perched on the bench, with the steam off, reading his goddamn paper. (Who does that?)

Without thinking, I blurted out, "Hey! Mind if I hit the button to turn the steam on?"

And before I could complete that sentence, he said, "No sure, that's fine."

So it was that easy.

Man, did I play it wrong the last time around. All I had to do was ask. And I let him have it with the steam. And he just sat there, drinking his water and reading his paper. No big deal.

Huh.

So you never know.

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