At the beginning of 2007, Hubby and I decided that this, our first year of retirement, would be our “Year to Get Healthy.”
One of our first steps on that course was to join a gym, and we think we’ve found the perfect one for us. We like it for several very good reasons — we are two of the youngest people there — there are very few mirrors — and the only spandex you see is if some younger person happens in. Those spandex people usually don’t return too many times — I think us old folks are probably depressing to them — AND they probably miss having mirrors in which to admire their buff selves. This gym is actually owned by one of the hospitals and is used for rehabilitation, so my impression of the trainers is that their attitude is more about health than about “pipes.” One good sign is tht not one of the trainers is named Buffy or Rock. So, we love this gym and try to go several times a week.
When I do the treadmill, I spend a lot of my time with my eyes closed because I can think about things without the distraction of the TV’s and the activity going on around me. (I did figure out very quickly, though, that if you are going to walk on it with your eyes closed — you’d better hold on!) The first time Hubby walked past and noticed I had my eyes closed, he stopped in front of me and waited for me to open my eyes. When he realized this wasn’t just a loooong blink, he said (rather loudly), “I hope you’re praying and not sleeping!” He scared the begebbers out of me! I had been deep in thought, and certainly not sleeping, thank you very much. (Although, I probably COULD have been sleeping — I’m a pretty good sleeper, no matter what the circumstance.)
Well, one day that I wasn’t sleeping/thinking/praying on the treadmill, I happened to notice a very trim woman, about my age, on the elliptical trainer right in front of me with sweatpants on that said “ANEL” across the butt. Having nothing better to do, I pondered on what those letters might represent. Probably not her initials, since most of us just use three of those; maybe they stood for an organization to which she belonged.
While I was thnking about that, she completed her time on the machine and stepped off. Her sweatpants repositioned themselves and i realized what was printed on her sweats was, “ANGEL.” Hard to believe that on someone that slim a whole “G” could disappear into an exercise-induced wedgie! I have seen her wear those pants since then, and I always think that I wish I knew her so that I could tell her what is sometimes happening to her “G,” but that certainly doesn’t seem like something a stranger would just start a conversation about out of the blue!
So, the lesson I take away from this experience is this. If Miss Slim and Trim can have a problem like that, it boggles the mind to think of what similar case of inadvertent editing could happen to someone with more “acreage.” I can imagine that by wearing sweat pants with, say, the Gettsyburg Address across the rear (and, yes, I believe there would be room for the whole Address on my derriere), I could possibly revise the sentences and meanings in that famous speech in some really profound ways that just wouldn’t be respectful. So, I have decided against printing the Gettysburg Address or anything else across the rear of my pants. And, no matter how slim you are, I hope you too will take heed of this cautionary tale and think long and hard before YOU have something printed there!
Happy, healthy exercising in GENERIC rear-view sweats.