Vanity Has a Face.
I went to the hotel gym tonight. It's rare that I'm ever joined by anyone, but tonight was different. Tonight I was joined by two people - two men - at different times.
These two did NOT know one another, and yet there was an instant competition between them. There were two mirrors and a myriad of weights. I'll let you guess what took place after that.
I was in the treadmill, going for one hour at 3.5mph (I'm working my way up to running). In that time, these two chased one another around the gym, kind of like a "follow the leader" game, each trying to out-do one another with reps, all the while admiring their groaning and strained reflections in the mirror.
I can understand watching the mirror to make sure you're keeping good form, but when you're making expressions that make me believe you're the unholy offspring of Sly Stalone and Arnold Schwarzenegger, something needs to change.
There was more spit on the mirror than remained in their mouths. If I hadn't watched it all happen, I wouldn't have believed it, and I probably would have believed someone had decided to make out with the mirror. Yes, there was that much slobber on it.
Vanity has a face, and it's making a HORRIBLE grimace as the hernia forms. Vanity, thy name is GYM-MAN!