It was business as usual at The Ultimate Bodies Fitness And Health Center now featuring Pilate's and Yoga: The throbbing bass lines pulsating through the closed door of the Spinning Class, with a shrill female voice screaming "C'mon people!! Aim for the Sky! And settle for Eternity!!" Further down the hall a yoga class was underway, man-hating vegan dykes and the naive douche-bags in training who love them, contorting their skinny, doughy red-meat deprived bodies into impossible poses, and holding them, perhaps in defiance of the cock dominated world that has slapped them down into the depths of estrogen on estrogen veggie burger love. The next room more cheery: An aerobics class! A slightly past her prime hungry-for-men instructor shaking her ass and tossing her blond hair imparting the calorie burning wisdom of her moves upon the equally cock craving slew of twenty, thirty and forty something chicks, each gyrating head full of dreams of baby-making fuck sessions. And, finally, the Weight Room. Rows of shiny chrome machines populated with mostly men with the occasional broad here and there who has emigrated from the aerobics class. The rhythmic sound of pulleys and times exhales. Numbers whispered, "...three, four, five..." Blue Collar, White Collar, Pussy-Hound and Queer alike, like busy ants moving hither and thither in determination from one miracle working machine to the next. Clad in anything from wife beaters, to cheap Fruit of the Loom, to Underarmour, they all look strangely alike: Thin arms, paunchy mid sections, long skinny necks climbing up into double chins, and toothpick legs that could barely carry a bag of those orange, marshmallow circus peanuts up a flight of steps. (to be continued)
