Observations from a Treadmill- the trainers

As I continue with my exploration into the world of Gyms and working out, I will begin calling these posts, “Observations from a Treadmill.”  I recently made the decision to be healthier and exercise more, mainly because I don’t want to end up as a diabetic and have my feet amputated later in life.

Anyway, my first Treadmill post called “Douche Bag Gym” was my observations of a few of the different types of people at the gym.  This post will concentrate more on the trainers and employees at the gym.

The Greeter: I arrived at the guy at 5:15 A.M. and I still had bits of sleep hanging in the corners of my eyes and even though I brushed my teeth, I’m sure my breath still smelled like old beer and smoky bar.

Essentially, I was sleepwalking into the gym that morning and everything was blurry.  As I handed my key chain scanner deal to the employee, she almost knocked me down with her ridiculous A.M. energy.

“GOOD MORNING, HAVE A GREAT WORKOUT,” she said in a voice that sounded like it was attached directly to my eardrum.

Holy shit, I couldn’t believe how alert she was at such an early hour.  How was this even possible?  Anyway, I made my way to one of the empty treadmills and started my cardio session.

The Trainer:  About three strides into my daunting 45-minute rapid walk, I could see him standing next to a guy who was flabbier than me. 

He was wearing the bright red company shirt that was at least an Extra-Medium and three sizes to small.  But, every good trainer lives by the “Tighter the Better” shirt motto.   

He was only about 5 foot 6 inches tall, which might explain why he’s spent the last 15 years of his life working out; little guys are always overcompensating for everything.

His head, his arms and his legs were 100% cleanly shaved, leaving no doubt that this trainer’s balls were also bald.

He has the normal clichéd tribal tattoos on his arms and legs and looks like he jumped right out of an Eminem video.  This trainer is one of the biggest wiggers I’ve ever seen.

It cracks me up how he hardly pays any attention to the guy he’s supposed to be training.  As the guy strains bench pressing that last rep, the trainer is obviously watching the hot chick doing pull-ups about 20 feet away.

The Payback: I’m not saying all trainers are like this douche bag, but a lot are.  This is the type of trainer I dream about confronting in the shower.  (No, not in a gay way, well maybe a little gay)

As he’s in the shower flexing and washing his abs, I would like to sneak up from behind him and drop kick him in the back of the head.  Then, while on the ground, I would hog tie him and flip him over.

I would gently spread my ass cheeks and sit on his forehead.  Sure, he would probably be screaming that they were going to cancel my membership, but who fucking cares?

“ONE MORE REP BITCH, how does my ass smell you wigger mutherfucker,” I would scream at him.

“One, two, balls bouncing on your forehead.  How does that feel Eminnem wannabee,” I would continue screaming.

I’m guessing my gym membership would probably be revoked for life, but damn it would be fun and there are plenty of other douche bag gyms for me to get pissed off at.


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