Gymbos

Gymboes? I don't know. I made up the word, so I say "gymbos" is the plural.

Disclaimer: I don't use the word "gymbo"--singular or plural--in a derogatory manner. It's a silly word I made up to describe myself, and really it means "gym rat" or "one who is slightly obsessed with working out."

Today at the gym, I saw a woman walk by wearing the standard workout tank top and sports bra combo, with a twist. That bra was jacked up to make her bubbies reach for the stars, and the resulting cleavage was impressive as hell.

My sports bras tend to have more of a flatten-and-conquer effect, and I like it that way.

My first thought when she walked by was, "How does she workout with the girls bouncing all over the place?" I'm honestly curious.

A moment later, another lady walked by, with very little support, and that big, droopy sort of cleavage that you see in bars and clubs all the time. I wondered, again, how she can stand doing any sort of physical activity. How does it not hurt like hell?!

I'm not snarking on anyone's body or outfit choices, I'm merely confused as all get-out. When I work out, I move. I bend, I twist, I lift, I raise my arms, I lean, and one thing I'm always, always conscious of, is what my girls are doing. I don't care if I have a little cleavage--but generally my bras and my tank tops have decent coverage--and I know when I lay down on my stomach on the hamstring machine that anyone nearby can look right down my shirt if they like, but if my boobs are as visible as these ladies' boobs were, there's no way they're supported while I'm doing my thing.

I notice, however, that there are different types of people who work out at my club. There are people like me, who wear the same gym outfit for 2-3 workouts (today's get-up is currently hanging up, airing out, on the door of my closet. A little bit of deodorant tomorrow and I'll be fine, thankyouverymuch) and prefer comfort and utility over style. I wear tight leggings not because I particularly want to show off my curves but because they make running more comfortable. I wear tight tank tops because I don't like having to adjust my clothes every time I lift a weight. I wear boob-flattening sports bras because nothing is more uncomfortable to me than having my boobs bounce--painfully--while I work out. I'd rather have shin splints.

Then there are the people--men and women--who come to the gym in perfectly coordinated get-ups, and...they don't do much. I will see them wander over to a machine, smile and chat with someone (of the opposite sex, usually), then maybe sit at a machine and lift a few weights before wandering off to chat with someone else. They don't sweat. It's a big pet peeve of mine because often, these are the people who are hogging the machines I need. Oy! Take your flirting elsewhere, I don't really want to be here all day.

My outfits coordinate--because all of my leggings and tank tops are black (except one set in grey). It doesn't matter what color bra I wear, because it will look good with black (or grey). If it clashes with my running shoes, I don't care. So you'll get Meg, doing her thing (today, it was my bright green bra showing under my tank top) and sweating buckets.

Notice that my hair is in a ponytail...because another thing I just can't, for the life of me, understand is women who can work out with their hair flowing down their back.

Seriously. I. Don't. Get. It. They either don't sweat, or they don't care that it's sticking to their neck and shoulders and...ugh. I get the willies just thinking about it. My hair is slicked back, with a barrette holding the shorter front layers in place, and that ponytail may brush my neck or shoulders, but it ain't sticking to anything.

Lest you think I'm shaming all the women at my gym (I'm not--honestly, I just don't understand how they work out like this--I'd be miserable), I can't leave out one last pet peeve: loud, weight-smashing, grunty He-Men.

You know the type. They wear teeny little cut-up tank tops that show off their ripped arms, backs, and chests. They're the ones you can hear all the way across the gym as the weight comes up: "UUUUNNNNNNGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!" (Translation: "Look at me! I big strong he-man. I lift big, heavy weight!")

Aaannnd as the weight comes down: "HUNH!!" *SMASH*

B. the Sadist, a body builder himself, used to roll his eyes, shake his head and say, "That's all for show." I can't help but wonder how good it is for the gym equipment (and yes, I use some of the same equipment as these hyperactive strong-men) to be dropped like that. The gym rules specifically state that it's not good for the equipment.

Most of the time it doesn't bother me. I go to the gym to do my thing, and unless someone spends an hour on the hip abductor machine, listening to her music and texting her eleven BFFs (I'm looking at YOU, girl who always hogs the hip abductor machine!!), I really don't have a problem with what anyone does. So long as I get my full workout in (though I once had to skip the hip abductor because in the time it took me to do three sets each on six different machines, that girl was STILL only on her second set because she was pissing around on her cell phone), I'll put up with lots of stuff. Especially when I get a smile, a hello, and a high-five from the hottie gym manager.