Today I went to the gym.
After doing my thing for an hour or so I decided it was time to go. So off to the changing rooms I staggered (leg day). Whilst mindlessly drying myself off I made some observations. I know you aren’t meant to look, but it happens.
There are two types of people in the changing rooms (well two types that I have noticed). The ones who get in, get undressed (facing away from people), slap on their gym gear (lululemon et al) grab a drink bottle and towel, and head for the gym. It’s much the same process on the way out.
Then, there are the other ones.
The ones who finish their workout, go to the showers (with a bag of product worth more than the cost of my gym membership) spend 75 minutes doing whatever it is that they do in there (I thought you just generally washed?!) then come out either stark naked (wearing jandals, because ew… athletes food..omg) or wrapped in a Louis Vuitton towel.
Oh, you thought I was going to end it there?
They then pop on their fancy undies and proceed to spend the next hour and a half simultaneously blow drying their hair and rubbing lotion on their svelte selves.
But wait, there’s more.
It’s now time to iron the entire outfit they brought (in an environmentally sustainable dry cleaning bag). This is done by carefully standing over the ironing board sans everything but the fancy undies.
This whole process seems to take longer than my entire workout!
Today, for example, I had been in and out of the shower, gotten dressed, texted at least 3 people, answered a snap chat, and decided what to have for lunch, and this amazon beauty of a woman had still only started with the blow dryer!
As I left she was heading for the iron.
In stark contrast, I fit more into the former of the two types of changing room girl.
I never remember to bring a full size towel, I don’t own travel sized THINGS that can be used in the shower, my jandals are for the beach and occasionally I’ll resort to tying up my hair in the shower with a fresh g-string I miraculously remembered to bring.
I get out of the shower and try to cover what I can (g-string still in hair, not on bum where it should be) and get changed as fast as possible before people see that I once breast-fed 3 children.
The only ironing done in our house is by my husband.
He usually manages to do it with clothes on, with an iron that I bought for $15 from K-mart.
I’ve got a long way to go before I’m allowed to touch the iron, let alone the Louis Vuitton towels.
But hurrah, today, I made it to the gym.