Monday, February 09, 2009

All those Mocha Lattes, you gotta do pilates

Dear World Gym,

I was sad to see that you purchased the gym that I have a membership to. While my old gym wasn't much to write home about, it was staffed with friendly people. Friendly, normal people. And it was patronized by friendly, normal people. Mostly moms. Moms who looked like moms and wore yoga pants and t-shirts that advertised their kids' t-ball team, or the local car wash, or their husbands company.

Now that you have usurped my gym, your patrons all wear tight outfits made out of some sort of creepy lycra that wicks perspiration off of the body and leaves it on the machines. Instead of the tranquil sounds of the yoga classes, there is the screams of pain as meatheads lift eighteen times their body weight with one hand, while sucking back a jug of muscle milk with the other.

And, speaking of my beloved, tranquil, yoga class - You took away the yoga mats and replaced them with machines that look as though they are made to torture those believed to be witches. What do you do with a contraption like that? Clearly, you are disturbed.

Also, we need to discuss the attitude of your elliptical machines.  If that miserable piece of metal tells me to "resume workout" one more time, I will lose my mind.  I highly suggest that you have a talk with it.  

Thank you,

Saki with the sore body

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