Gym bunnies are annoying

So I went to the gym on Monday right after all the skinny girls finished Zumba.  Nothing like getting undressed and into your gym clothes in front of Barbie and friends, but whatever, I got over that phobia in 6th grade phys. ed. Mostly what I learned is that it is never a good idea to run out of the shower to hurry back to your little locker to hide while you are buck naked with a towel the size of a dish cloth.  Fat girls fall hard and they make a slapping sound on the floor.  How do I know this?  It happened to me in 6th grade.  So, I owned it from there.  If you want to stare at the fat girl in her undies that have the day of the week printed on the back and training bra, go ahead.  And why did they use such small towels?  Buncha bull if you ask me.

Anyway, today, I go to the gym a little later to avoid gym bunnies.  I walk into the locker room and the place is empty.  Yes!  I pick the spot in the corner where I could have some privacy if others came in there.  I mean, I need room, do you know how hard it is to get back into your fat controlling device (FCD) after you have worked out and are damp either from sweat or a shower?  I need room to move around to get that accomplished.  Arms flail, bending happens, it is a separate workout all together.  So, I have the perfect spot for that.  I leave my stuff there so it is clear I have marked my territory.  It couldn't have been anymore clear if I had pee'd on the bench.

I go out into the gym and do all the stuff the trainer showed me on Monday.  At least, I think I was doing what he told me.  I'm not going to lie, while I was balancing on that ball with my hands and was in push-up position, I was trying to remember to breathe and tuck my butt and focus on my core, but it wasn't pretty.  I might as well been trying to ride a unicycle and juggle.  None the less, I got 'er done.  Meanwhile, in the midst of my extremely athletic performance on the balance ball, Barbie and friend enter the gym. Skinny bitches. Hate em.  I continue my circuit on the bike and then the eliptical and then back in for some work on my legs.  My muscles were screaming.  They warned me not to go to the gym, but I went anyway.  After Monday, they were not amused.  It was good though.  I was breathing good and sweating. I was a cardio machine.  Nothing could ruin my buzz, not even catching a glimpse of myself doing this stretchy thing with my hands up and my belly peeking out from under my shirt as I raised my arms.  I was a work-out goddess and a vision.  I was sporting a bright pink Hanes Her Way t-shirt and some black sweat pants with red and white racing stripes down the side.  Those gym bunnies could only dream of looking THIS COOL while working out.  I owned it.

Ok, so show is over.  I walk into the rather spacious locker room and what do I see?  Barbie and Buffy had set up shop on both sides of me.  One of them had their bag next to mine on the bench and then the other one had it on the floor next to mine.  Why would they do this?  Were they making a fat girl sandwich?  I was so irritated.  I wanted to kick their stuff or sit with my naked sweaty butt on the bench.  That would show them.  But then I started thinking, I know what these girls do in the bathroom, who is to say someone else hasn't sat their sweaty ass on the bench?  I decided to take the high road.  I got cleaned up and left. 

These gym bunnies will learn, if they are going to crowd me, they are going to see a lot of cellulite.  I'll walk around the locker room naked if need be.  I bet they start working out in the morning instead of on their lunch then.  My next attempt at athletic excellence is Friday.  I'll keep you posted on if I had to resort to any unsavory acts to claim my FCD dressing area.