There is one thing that always makes people stop and watch at the gym, even more so than the girls who show up in their underwear. [Aside: these girls must be aware that they have officially given up the right to the, "What do you think you're looking at?" look.  If I show up in my underwear . . . I also give up that right.]  

The thing I'm talking about is the girl pounding out the chin ups.  People start out by counting the chins in their peripheral vision.  At number 7 or 8 they start shooting quick glances to look for signs of fatigue.  After number 10 all common gym etiquette goes out the window and all those within view start watching intently and continuing the count.  Folks walking by notice everyone looking at a fixed location and turn their heads as well.  When the girl hits 20 chins before dropping off the bar, people slowly resume their routine with hushed comments between themselves, and promise themselves to work on their chin ups more often.  But not today, for fear of being compared to "that chick".


Today, that chick was my wife, and she pounded out 20 ferocious chins much to the dismay of her husband, who has dreamed of hitting that number for years.  It was shameful, it was hot.  Now I'm off to change Amanda's bio to reflect her newfound status.

Nicely done Amanda.

 


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