This week marked the commencement of my attempt, nay my determination, to become a regular gym-goer. Thus begins my bunnitude. For those not in the know, a gym bunny is a LGBT term (and maybe a conventional one as well) for a man who lives at the gym. This shan't be me. Not really. However, it's actually been going fairly well and I now feel rather an expert on the matter having now gone twice. That's right, kids - Tuesday AND Thursday. Contrary to what I expected, the first session did not, in fact, end in exhaustion and/or vomiting. Apparently I don't suck at everything. Like, I'm pretty sure I killed at cardio. Like, full-on slayed, yo. And here's another revelation: out of shape, unattractive people go to the gym too! It's true! I was expecting it to be myself and a bunch of rejected Men's Health models, and while there were certainly some aesthetic confections, I was unhealthily relieved to find myself in good company, if the minority. It's odd how different I’ve felt in these few days; I don’t realistically think I look different or really feel all that different (perhaps slightly more hormonal – more on that in a moment), but looking in the mirror just feels different knowing that it’s heading somewhere. It’s kinda that whole glass-half-full/empty thing. The level of water is essentially holding steady at 50%, but now I see the good 50%. Does that make sense? Not really? Suck it, it’s my blog.
Now, my final observation on gym culture is not for the squeamish. In fact, it makes me feel a little bit pervy even bringing it up, but as it’s a somewhat humorous sign of the times, I’ll share. I was in the change room (aka the place wherein my manhood shrivels to the size of a Cheezie) when a moderately attraction (read: pretty g.d. hot) feller joins me in the locker bay. All is well and good and I’m thinking that I’ll get to see some ab action, maybe even some man lines, and the next thing I know the guy is totally naked and I’m incredibly uncomfortable. Nooooooooooow, here’s the thing. If I was a straight guy in a locker room, I’m not sure how comfortable I would feel being naked and ogled by another guy. Hell, as a non-straight guy I’m not ok with it in my bedroom. And I really didn’t ogle. In fact, when the towel dropped, I did my best to stay exactly above shoulder level with my eyes…but c’mon. It’s not that I need to see another naked guy (I might as well have a commitment ceremony with internet porn), but it’s just there. Like a big (not Jewish) pink elephant in the locker room. Like a (not Jewish) accident that you can’t help but glance at and not because it’s a turn on, but…oh god I’m so creepy! But do you see where I’m going with this? Not so much? Eat me, it’s my blog. *sigh* Ok, let’s approach this a different way. Straight boys, could you really be in a change room which contains many hot women and deal with one of them changing next to you and not feel a bit awkward? See? Who’s pervy now? Still me. Ok, that’s fair, but only because I’m the only one who realistically has to deal with it. Perhaps the time of gender-divided locker rooms should be over. Perhaps there should be four, according to gender and orientation. Mind you, then the gay change room would just be one big circuit party orgy and the lesbians would replace their hand-dryers with power tools.