The gym is the place for bringing up great expectations, good intentions and unkept promises.
Be honest, it’s easy to take out a membership! Some people buy expensive yearly subscriptions to force themselves to go there regularly. Unfortunately, many times the aim is losing weight but in the end only the wallet looks slimmer. In the meantime, there are also people who live at the gym, you meet them from Monday to Sunday and, who knows, maybe they sleep between the bike and the treadmill.
The fauna at the gym is varied, but if we want to be scientific and dare to do a classification, it is possible to identify 5 categories:
The dreamers:
The dreamers are those ones that are used to call workout activities as bench fit, aqua gym and stretching. So, I think that is fair to add to Olympic sports also fork lifting, vaulting on the bed and sloth on the couch.
The gossipers:
The gossipers go to the gym to train just a muscle: the tongue. They don’t sweat, spend time chatting and badmouthing. They know everything about all members of the club and inexplicably are always close to you. Don’t care about their questions, you risk to be…on the front page!
The seducers:
The seducers are always around the sexiest trainers. They generally attend zumba or pilates class and wear slinky leggings that draw attention to the unavoidable G-string. Of course, it peeps out at each squat. Crazed.
The know-it-all:
Also if you don’t know him, are lost in your thoughts and don’t care about the rest of the world, the know-it-all comes close to you and lists all the mistakes you are doing during the training. His ego is limitless, and so he seizes the opportunity to show off his culture about gym and workout. Try to play dead, it’s the only way to make him silent.
The lady-killer:
He considers himself the playboy of the gym and wearing a snug vest is sure to look as a Greek God. The lady-killer is very muscular, forever bronzed and foul-smelling because of a mix of perfume and sweat. According to him, the gym is a marriage agency. Between a deltoid and a pectoral tries to talk endlessly to you and, using the excuse to teach you how to do an exercise, puts his hand on your butt. There’s only one repellent: the Zumba class.
