It might be vain of me, but I like to look...decent, when I'm at the gym. Makeup, I don't care about. Hair, I don't care about. Even shaved legs, I don't care about. But I will admit that I've fallen victim to the lululemon fad (might I add here, though, that I had lulu pants before ANYONE I know did (or knew at the time, because it was THAT long ago)). I have my lulu capri's, my lulu tank, and my lulu headband (but I don't care about my hair so that one doesn't count). And really, I look like anybody else working out at the gym. Except the girl that showed up in her KFC uniform...
Yes, she walked in, handed in her membership card, and hopped right on a treadmill, IN HER UNIFORM. I stared. A lot. I thought maybe I must have been in a cardio-infused, hallucinatory mindset. Ok, no. She is really in her uniform. Maybe the gym paid her to come in smelling like deep fry to taunt all the members. Deep fry and sweat...you couldn't pay me enough. Well maybe for deep fry.
Ok, so she doesn't care about her gym appearance, I'm not judging. Very much. But then, as I'm driving down the road today, I see a sidewalk jogger. I'm supes jealsy because I LOVE running outside. Maybe not on the main street of the city, but outside compared to on a treadmill is most definitely preferred. And this is what he's wearing: a collared polo t-shirt, board shorts, and socks pulled up to his knees. None of that screams "I work out on a regular basis" to me. It more screams, "I felt the need to go for a jog rightthisminute, and grabbed the first thing I saw" (or maybe didn't see, in his case). So he runs on the main street, in that attire, for ALL to see, nbd.
But then there was this treat:
A guy in what I would consider "proper" workout attire (I am an expert, after all), sprinting in a circle around the perimeter of the parking lot of the mini mall. SPRINTING. Maybe he was running from someone, but I watched, and no one was coming after him. Maybe in his head they were? It's difficult to say.
Oh, and let's not forget the girl in one of my circuit classes that during the 45 seconds of whatever weight machine one was on, she was texting and dangling her legs over the machine as though she was sitting on a bridge, over a pond, on a hot summer day, with her sandals seated beside her, basking in the warm sun. To boot, she was 16 pounds, soaking wet, so maybe she didn't have the strength to be lifting any weight with her legs? Her thumbs were getting quite the workout though.
I guess the moral of my bizarre fitness observations is that everyone exercises in their own way (and don't get me wrong, good for them! At least they're getting out there and getting fit...kind of...that's more than I could have said a few months ago), albeit, it's not in any way I would consider exercising, but I guess that just makes me a giant lululemon-wearing, gym-going snob. With greasy hair and unshaved legs. Gotta love me.