Tag Archives: elliptical

You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry

Okay, so I want to have a ranty time, and there is no better place than (semi)anonymously on a blog. Am I right, ladies?


At my gym there are two fancy cross-trainy machines with televisions attached (remember this part for later). Thus thing is basically the devil child of a stair master and an elliptical. It’s the best. When I’m done on that thing, I look like I just came out of a pool. It’s disgusting and awesome. My shirt looks like the Shroud of Turin, but instead of the face of Jesus, it’s my back sweat. Enjoy that word picture.

The point here is that there are only two of these. Now when I go in the gym and I see two other people working out on these things, I seethe for minute, and go about my business elsewhere. Like an adult. That’s what adults do.

But there’s this woman THIS WOMAN who goes to one of the machines, plugs in her head phones and just STANDS THERE watching Judge Joe Brown. Literally just stands there. Stands there watching the little TV with a face like a cow in a pasture. Who watches Judge Joe Brown anyway? Who wastes their time in this manner?

Sometimes, when the other one is empty, I hop on that one and work out like a madwoman. Sometimes I give her little passing looks, as if to say “This is how it’s done, woman!” But she doesn’t get that message. She doesn’t care about my message at all.

But today the other machine was taken, and I had to slink away angrily to another, lesser torture device. I mean, Jesus. If you’re going to force me to work out on a pansy machine, at least do me the honor of pretending to work out. Having a Big Gulp Coke in the water bottle holder is not pretending. That just makes me angrier. And it’s not the good kind of rage that makes you work out harder for longer; it’s weird rage bursts coupled with the dull ache of disgust. I think it gives me heart burn.

So then I start to have the fantasies. I want to follow her out to her car. I want to go up to her all friendly-like and say, “I think you forgot something!” I want to watch her face as she reasons, “How could I have forgotten anything? My headphones and big gulp drink are in my hands!” And then, as she realizes that I must be mistaken, I want to punch her in the face. Tae Bo style, since it’s a gym after all. And then I want to say some sort of witty quip like, “Don’t sweat it.” But not that; something funny instead.

Obviously there is a lot of misplaced anger here that I need to work out (pun originally not intended, but let’s pretend it was). Maybe I’m just pissed because I wasn’t drenched in sweat when I left the gym today. Maybe it’s because I couldn’t watch TMZ while becoming drenched in sweat. All I can promise is that if that woman is there next time I go to the gym I will…continue to stare at her angrily.