No Pain, No Gain

We are now firmly implanted in 2010 and apart for a few stragglers the New Year's resolution crowd at my gym has pretty much given in to their couch potato ways and things are back to normal. I don't have to wait an hour to get on a treadmill and the staff has dropped their phony cheerful dispositions designed to sign up fresh meat to annoying two-year contracts with hidden fees and caveats in favor of their more natural, bored, jogging-suit clad, manicured selves.

For the most part, the "normal" crowd at the gym is your typical working gal trying to burn some calories after work and before the new episode of Top Chef comes on. But there are a few who make you wonder why they bother. Here they are:

"Chatty Kathy": Why else were cell phones invented if not to sit in jeans and boots in the locker room for an hour talking about what a bitch your ex's ex is? I cannot help but overhear these conversations while I'm trying to change into my gym clothes with the speed and dexterity of Romanian gymnast and the self-consciousness of a pimply-faced tween. Does the whole world need to know your business? Do you enjoy watching middle-aged women in their granny panties? It's a locker room, not a phone booth. Sheesh.

"Jane Fonda": You know the type, leotards over the leggings. Inappropriate thong-age. Women dressed like this make you want to find the nearest Delorian and hit 1985. I have to admit though, it is sort of amusing to see people who are either so oblivious to social norms that it borders on sad or they just don't give a shit, and on some level, I respect that.

"Heathers": Chatty Kathies in a bunch. Instead of blowing up each other's phones, they sit in an inconvenient place on the gym floor and just, like, chat, or something. You know the beginning of that song "Baby Got Back" ("Oh my gosh Becky...) picture that conversation in the middle of your gym while you're trying to find the zone so you can squeeze out another 3 squats. What's worse about these stupid beotches is they are ridiculously skinny. They work up a sweat just figuring out the combinations to their lockers and couldn't do a push-up to save their lives, and yet they have bikini-ready bodies just by sitting on their asses and watching the rest of us work out like fiends. My only solace is that time and gravity will catch up with them and all they'll be left with is a muffin top hanging over an old Juicy Couture workout suit.

Despite these pet peeves, I still enjoy the gym. It's true what they say, "no pain, no gain."