Is it a modern art piece? Is it a cathedral? Is it a million calories being pointlessly consumed?
The new gym on our campus is magnificent. Famed architects created a study of white painted steel and frosted glass. It is open, inviting, and a voyeurs' dream.
The treadmills overlook the entryway, so that upon walking in, before I can remove my ipod to greet the receptionist, I can see the sweaty red faces working hard to run nowhere, simultaneously rising and falling as if by force of some ancient rhythm, in complete sync with Portishead's Mysterons as broadcast into my ears. As I do a warm-up stretch, I overlook two Olympic sized swimming pools, where one man gyrates vertically in and out of the water like a stalk of seaweed, to work on some mysterious muscle that must be hideously underdeveloped.
I spend an hour and a half tweaking my body, developing muscles I'll never use, lifting free weights to the point of failure, and considered drinking protein shakes to look like the bench pressing hulk next to me (200 lbs, yikes!) For the rest of the day, I take elevators instead of walking up stairs. Ride cars instead of walk. I mean, its a rapid world, and we have to sit at desks, and we all must still look good. But does it have to be this absurd?
I'm thinking about liposuctioning out all of my fleshy matter and inserting silicon muscle implants.
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