Something About A Gym

My gym opened. After much Polish red tape hurrah and delay, it finally opened.

The best thing about it? It’s on my way home from my kids’ school. In order to get home every day, I have to pass it.

So I don’t.

The cardio room rocks. There’s treadmills and ellipticals and cross country skiers and rowing machines and lions and tigers and bears, oh my.

And the best part about it. I don’t have to fight anyone for equipment, because there’s no one there.

Because the majority of people who buy gym memberships don’t use them.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all the lazy people who think that merely owning a membership will make you fit.

And the first day I wandered around and got “lost”. I found the pool, which is awesome, and the locker rooms. (Men stop reading – this will ruin your fantasy) The showers that actually have locks on stalls as opposed to a giant tiled room with spigots where everyone stands together, in the words of a friend, “as God made you.” (Male readers can resume reading). A beauty salon, a spinning room, and child care center. But without the annoying “bar” that all the other gyms in Warsaw seem to have.

And then I walked into the weight room. And it sparkled and shined and there were rainbows and fairies and flowers and Obama flew in on his unicorn.

And I knew I was home.