Scent of a Gym... - A Blog Review

Admit it, we love saying “I’m going to the gym.” The sentence alone provides a thrill of accomplishment as it leaves our lips and delivers a little perk to our step. I’m going to the gym. The gym, where the endorphins run free and the stress melts off with the pounds.

This week, I rode that high of “I’m going to the gym,” entering the YouFit in Wellington, Florida, with my head held high, greeted immediately by the methodic sounds of mindless clatter, of weights clanking against other weights, of high speed treadmills with people determined to get their cardio in. This is my haven, my sanctuary, my home away from home. It’s as overwhelming as it is invigorating.

But what’s a home, without its restroom? As I hurry to disrobe, I’m immediately battered by the unquestionable aroma of human. A foul odor caused by body sweat, various deodorizers, and perfumes travel the air, permeating through the recycled air conditioning. Though I’m immediately gagging and considering retreat, I press on, determined in my mission to achieve the perfect physique.

In spite of the smell, the facilities are obviously cared for and kept clean and tidy. There’s no garbage overflowing, no toilet paper cluttering the floor, no mysterious stains to be found on the tiny white tiles. Lockers line the wall like a row of soldiers, a strange uniformed purple that contrasts with the popping neon green of the wall. The two colors jumble together in a mix so bright that it makes me think less of working out and more of the tackiest club I could have ever stepped into (or Batman Forever). Still, my head stays high as I close myself in the stall, where a full body mirror leers uncomfortably at me. It’s like a window to self-admiration or, more likely, a nagging reminder as to why I came here today. At least it’s spacious, so it’s easy to scoot away from both the mirror and my self-image issues. Nothing is faded in these restrooms--in fact, it all looks as if everything could have been installed yesterday. The bathroom and I share a kinship in some rather unfortunate ways: like new, a little scattered, and smelly after a workout. I strut out with the nagging sensation that, from now on, I ought to do my changing at home.

I can’t miss the gym, but this bathroom could use a “work out” of its own!