Open Letter to the “Gym Dudes”

Conversations I don’t have with men at the gym. But should.

Hey gym guy.

You’re struggling with me. I can tell. You’re looking at me a little weirdly. Something about me is slightly off putting to you. You don’t know what it is. I do.

I seem out of place. I am. This place is weird. There is legitimately a guy over there working out in khaki cargo shorts. You have questions. I have answers.

Yes, that noise is coming from me. I am, indeed, grunting. Why? Because I just made a 120 pound lat pull down my bitch. It’s heavy, it hurts. But, no, I don’t think I should go a little lighter.

No, I’m not wearing any make up and my hair is in an unintentionally messy bun. I didn’t spend 15 minutes in the locker room tweaking it just so.

I also do understand that my outfit doesn’t match and I’m wearing muddy Converse.

Yes, I’m wearing Converse because it keeps the balance on the heels of my feet which is where I need them if I’m gonna be able to pull a 275 pound deadlift. But, those expensive Nikes look cool, bro.