For so many years I've lost count, my gym was an all-gal gym, a place where hormones ran wild, social commentary flew, and female abs crunched day and night. Then they let the men join. At first, the gals were a little upset. But we got over it fast. True, the men are noisier and sweatier, but thank God, most of them stay away from the classes (unless they happen to teach them). They huff and puff and lift weights downstairs in a manly way. Which is a good thing. Their upstairs absence allows the gals to continue over-sharing our feelings about, who else, men. Here's a highlight, pre-Boot Camp, pre-arrival of our Hunky Instructor. Might've been the on-going heatwave or the promise of free chocolate come Halloween:
Pam: I passed the cutest firefighters on the way here.
SJG: Where?
Pam: Laurel Canyon and Moorpark. Firefighters are so cute. I once had a panic attack and I called the fire department. The firefighters came over, and they were so cute, my panic went away.
SJG: Who needs Xanax?
Old School: Before they had calendars
I'm sure those boys are very hunky and all that, but don't they have showers in fire stations?
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