When you think of a gym named Powerhouse, do you think of little girlie girls doing 10-pound bicep curls on those cute little white "weight training" machines while wearing those cute little barrette-and-baseball cap accessorized hair while they squeeze their 92 pound skinny as a rail body into the latest Nike ensemble? Or, do you think of 250 pound muscle men benchpressing one and a half times their weight, sweating and screaming and cursing as they lift through the pain?
The general population at Powerhouse are serious gym dwellers, trying to build muscle mass and big-ass biceps. Yeah, there are a few pretty-girls there trying to maintain their negative 1 dress size, talk to their girlfriends, and try to pick up that cute personal trainer helping a real body builder; but most of us there are there to work out.
But, for some reason the gym wants to cater to those blond bimbettes instead of the dedicated weight lifters and boxers at the gym. We've been asking for an advanced boxing class, and it's taken over three months, and we still haven't gotten the class approved. However, Mister Fancy-Prancy-Pants, the new aerobics instructor wants a freaking introductory step class, and gets it approved within 48 hours. Rumor at the gym is that Mister Fancy-Prancy-Pants wants to replace the 6pm boxing class with another freaking step class. They get new Reebok step equipment, we get jumpropes that are missing handles. They need an extra five minutes in the boxing room to stretch, so we lose five minutes of boxing time. They get catered to and we get the shaft. As usual.
I know that I sound intolerant, but there is a 24 Hour Fitness that caters to the meat market crowd just across the street. They have all the shiny chrome machines, aerobics rooms and step classes that a girlie-girl could want! Isn't this just the way the world works: if you're skinny, ditzy and blonde, the world is your oyster… and every door is opened wide for you.
NOTE FROM JANET
Not to obsess on Step Classes, but when I heard that they were revamping the entire "aerobic" portion of the gym to cater to new "Power Stepping," I had to stop and wonder. Don't get me wrong, step had its time in the sun — I even have one shoved under my couch somewhere, and also own several Reebok Step Videocassettes. I originally bought it so I could exercise at home, because when we lived in Boston, gym memberships were beyond expensive. But as much as I stepped into oblivion, I never felt very fit. Besides that, isn't it so 1993?
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