While I was tidying the other day, I found my old workout notebook, in which I also scrawled some of the more memorable lines that men have fed me at the gym. My long-time readers may remember that I spend big chunks of my life at the gym. And since I signed up over a year ago, I’ve had plenty of time to observe the kind of barbarism that is somehow accepted as civilized human behavior at a parisian gym.
I picked out some of my “favorites” and added a few recent gems in order to present to you, dear readers, the Gym Casanova Hall of Infamy:
In the lobby:
- “Hey, girl, you don’t need to work out. Don’t go upstairs to work out. Stay here in the lobby with me and I’ll give you a workout.”
- “Don’t see many of ‘your people’ in here.”
In the free weights room :
- “Hey, little girl, are you lost?”
- “Aren’t you afraid of turning into a man?”
- “You must be in here to find a man, no?”
In the weight machines area :
- “Will you marry me? Oh, not YOU. I don’t like asians. I was talking to the girl behind you.”
- “Are you lesbian?”
In the stretching area:
- “Women shouldn’t do push-ups.”
- “Do you give thai massages? You’re thai, right?”
In the cardio area:
- “You know, a lady is not supposed to sweat like that.”
- “Finished already? <as he looks me up and down> Don’t you think that you need to burn a few more calories?”
From the mouth of a mean trainer:
“You’ve gotten fat over the holidays. Looks like I have my work cut out for me.”
- “You look terrible today.” (For the record, I thought that I looked pretty good, dammit.)
- <pinches the area of my back right above my butt> “Got to trim this down!” (Ever since then, I’ve been terrified about back fat.)
I love working out.
But goddamn it, I hate going to the gym in Paris.