3 sets of 12 reps and... ooo... what?

Someone just hit on me at the gym. I've never understood this.

I do not look cute when I go to the gym. I do not look happy at the gym. I do not go to the gym to meet people.

I think most people feel this way. Women anyway. At the gym you feel fat. The machine counts down the calories you've allegedly burned off. There are mirrors everywhere. Gyms are not happy places. Gyms are places where you go to kick some ass; your own, someone else's. Gyms are places of focus, intensity, pain, sweating and all around disgusting-ness. You go the gym to feel better about yourself. Better. Maybe even good about yourself, if you're lucky.

So I imagine if you get hit on at the gym it's a little disconcerting. It was for me anyway. Someone stopping you in passing is one thing.

But I was on that weight machine.

You know the one.

C'mon ladies...

You know, the one where you spread your legs as wide as possible and squeeze them together? It targets the inner thighs. You know, that bodypart you hate.

So this kid - Charlie - comes up to me when I have my legs spread wide and tries to talk to me.

"I like how you work out."
"Excuse me?" I look at him with my legs spread wide, sitting down as he towers over me...

Now, call me crazy, anti-social, grumpy, whatever, but I have a little bit of an issue with people trying to talk to me when my legs are spread. I mean... isn't it basic human knowledge that you should not talk to a woman when she has her legs spread unless you yourself are between them?

I mean, I even find it weird when my gynocologist talks to me when he's down there doing his job. He likes to talk to me about traveling and Europe. I'm like, dude, you're testing me for gonorrhea, but yeah, southern France is nice that time of year....?

But anyway, Charlie likes the way I work out. "It looks like you're not doing anything," he says. Um, thanks? How offensive is that?

"Uh...." I stammered, legs spread, looking up at him. I squeezed them together and tried to not let the pain of holding the weights in this position for a while show on my face. "I've been sick," I said, "For a week. I haven't been here in 10 days or something." I released, legs spread. I couldn't stop thinking about my vagina. Your vagina is not something you want on your mind when talking to a stranger.

I looked down. I looked away. I squeezed my legs together and held. And held. I looked away. I closed my eyes. Do not think about your vagina. There is a stranger here. No vagina. NO!

Finally, he left.
"Well, it was nice to meet you!" he exclaimed.

Yeah. Right. It was a pleasure meeting you too. Really.