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The Irresponsible
Use of Spandex

  I have been going to the gym for some time now and I have begun to notice a resurgence in the popularity of spandex. It seems it doesn't matter if you shouldn't wear spandex these days, only that it is fashionable and the in thing.

I'm not one to complain... well, maybe I am, but the other day I saw a guy wearing spandex that should have been the companies product tester. The stuff was stretched so tight I swear he couldn't have possibly been breathing freely. I had the displeasure of seeing this guy get on a machine I had planned to use in just a few more minutes.

While sweating profusely and the machine's weight pin straining to hold the load, Mr. Muscles puffed and grunted out 5 very hard reps. Then, after every set he would get up and walk around the machine while composing himself by making weird noises. Back on the machine he would make sure everyone heard his next attempt and so on until he was ready to move on to another unsuspecting piece of equipment.

I retreated to the treadmill in fear of being sprayed with sweat by the guy with no towel and death defying spandex. The entire time I was walking I thought how badly I wished he wasn't wearing the spandex. I had to use those same machines and I didn't think my towel would survive. After 27 minutes and 18 seconds of this loud display Mr. Muscles retired to the locker room leaving all quiet again in the gym save a few clanging weights and a fat lady passing out as she fell off a treadmill.

I finished the rest of my workout and ducked into the locker room to get cleaned up before leaving. As I rounded the corner Mr. Muscles was walking around the room grunting and puffing like he was having a heart attack. He saw me and immediately struck up a conversation about the weather and other innocuous subjects, but I was so shocked I couldn't move. Mr. Muscles was naked...

It was then I heard myself say something so bizarre I still have trouble recounting the event. " Could you please put your spandex back on."

He didn't thrash me to a pulp or anything like that, he just walked back to his locker, held up the badly stretched material and said, "These look good don't they!"

I grimaced, grabbed my bag and headed for the door quietly chanting to myself, "Be careful what you wish for, be careful what you wish for, be careful what you wish for..."

 

 
       
       

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