I often wonder what kind of shape my physical health would be in if I lived in a time period/place where it wasn't deemed "acceptable" for women to work out. I take for granted that I have a place to go and let off some steam every day. True, I might not look so attractive in the process of bulkin' up. BUT THE ENDS JUSTIFY THE MEANS!
I made the mistake today of heading to Planet Fitness (the judgment FREE zone - questionable propaganda, though) during their busiest time block (5pm-8pm.) I also made the mistake of trying my luck with the dumbbells.
In the mornings, it's usually just me and some old geezer at the dummbell station. We both normally put the ten pound weights to use. I'm sure at one point in his outstretched lifetime this elderly man could have handled more - but now he's on my level. And I don't exactly put up an impressive amount of ponderosity.
Today, though, there was a dizzying amount of young lads hovering over the free weights like vultures. Taking up every inch of mirror space from one end of the thirty-foot-long speculum to the other, they glared at me, wondering where my audacity had come from, infiltrating this apparently implied Boys Only Club as I had.
I grabbed the double set of tens, squished in between a short Mexican man and an intensely juiced-up high school athlete, and proceeded to go to town on my biceps. I normally stare straight ahead whilst working out. But when I finally let my eyes wander, I felt like I was back in Vietnam. Every single ocular was focused on me.
Lesson learned: stick to the morning gym session.