Visiting the gym is like entering an urban wildlife park. Once you pass through the turnstiles there you are amongst some of the most complex and self-obsessed animals of them all – you.
In every gym, across the globe, you will find the same set of creatures prowling throughout the changing rooms, the weights room, the swimming pool, the stretching area and the gym class – it’s the most colourful human zoo one could ever envisage.
Gay Peacocks are the most dominant force, regardless of whether in the outside world they think they are straight. As soon as these men come within touching distance of free weights they transform into a bunch of fudge nudgers extraordinaire. There’s no other space, outside of a masturbation marathon, where you hear men grunt and groan with such epic abandon, with one eye on their reflection and the other on the prime piece of male booty next to them. But it’s when the purple leg warmers and black eyeliner comes out when one starts to worry. Trust me, it happens.
Alongside the GPs there also co-exists in polar harmony, the Loser Mole. The LM is often spotted on the treadmill (walking), whilst gazing longingly into the distance. This poor creature desperately wants to fit in, but bursting out of that faded Billy Joel tee circa 1983, daring to be seen in those ill-fitting blue dad shorts, and that awful grandma’s own short-back-and-sides really isn’t helping. The LM is NEVER spotted near the weights. Away from the treadmill you may see him in an aerobics class – bringing new meaning to the word ‘awkward’ – or if you’re really fucking unlucky, giving it some at the stretching area. Ooof.
Now to the females in the fitness animal kingdom. The current favourite scampering about this sweat-fuelled cage has to be the Slut Panther. The SP really is one of a kind. The moment she steps one paw into the changing rooms, this otherwise reserved office clerk morphs into a narcissistic sexual creature of jaw-dropping proportions – but it’s post-work out when she rocks it out. Amidst her fellow flushing flock of (clothed) peahens, the SP stands in front of the mirror, naked, admiring her form by smearing on body cream, slowly – especially over her perfectly pert breasts – and publicly enjoying the hot air from the hairdryer right up her crack(s). But there is no lesbo action occurring here. The SP only has eyes for one person – herself. Glorious.
There is one creature the SP really ticks off and that is the Old Lizard. The OL is a compulsory player in all gyms. There is nothing wrong with older ladies getting on the exercise groove in their twilight years (good on you grandmas) but it’s when they are sour-faced moody old bints that make it suck for everyone else. The OL – when not tutting at naked beauties gloating in their buffness – also tutts loudly when you come out of the pool and into the changing rooms dripping (no shit) and is usually spotted moaning to the desk clerk about toilet hygiene, whinging to the PTs about untidy workout mats and, yes, tutting loudly during peak period when she wants to use the stepper.
So, dear readers, which one are you?