Hi! I'm Lindsay Ferrier. You might remember me from a blog called Suburban Turmoil. Well, a lot has changed since I started that blog in 2005. My kids grew up, I got a divorce, and I finally left the suburbs for the heart of Nashville, where I feel like I truly belong. I have no idea what the future will hold and you know what? I'm okay with that. Thrilled, actually. It was time for something totally different.
September 13, 2008
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There’s one elliptical machine in my gym that’s located up on the second floor track ringing the work-out area. From it, I can observe all that’s going on amid the weight machines and treadmills and Stair Masters below, and it definitely keeps me occupied during a grueling workout.
Yesterday, the Bronzed God was my primary distraction. He took his place atop an elevated mat in the center of the room and stayed there for most of my 45-minute workout. The mat is sectioned into four quadrants, ostensibly so that four different people can use it at once, and it is in constant rotation at the gym. People use it for sit-ups or stretching, and everyone is always scooting around so that one more person can get on.
Everyone, that is, except the Bronzed God.
The Bronzed God sat right in the middle of the mat so that no one else could hope to climb aboard unless they wanted a very awkward encounter with one of the Bronzed God’s muscle-bound limbs. Then the Bronzed God got in a position of meditation, hands folded as if in prayer. He sat that way for a good long time, no doubt checking from behind his dark glasses (yes, he was wearing dark glasses. In the gym. Puh-leeze.) to see if anyone was noticing his technique, not to mention his physique.
After the Bronzed God had finished his, er, gym prayer, he got into a yoga position that I believe is called the side plank. Using one arm to support his body, he reached the other to the ceiling in a straight line. Again, he looked around to see if anyone was noticing the simply marvelous specimen that was The Bronzed God. Unfortunately, no one seemed to be watching but me, and thank God I was up above where he couldn’t see or hear me, because I was snickering uncontrollably.
This went on through four or five different yoga poses and many, many, many furtive glances at fellow gymgoers. The only people who seemed to notice him (besides me) were the ones who clearly were waiting to use the mat he was dominating, and they were wearing frowns on their faces.
“Whatever,” I’m sure he thought to himself. “Clearly, they’re jealous of my magnificent body tone.”
Eventually, The Bronzed God left, head held defiantly high, and the mat filled up again with normally-proportioned people who, you know, shared.
I’m guessing The Bronzed God doesn’t have a girlfriend and doesn’t understand why, but isn’t it true for most women that a man who fixates on his appearance is totally unattractive? It’s a major turnoff.
But it certainly does make for an entertaining workout.
This post originally appeared on Parents.com.
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