Dear Gym –
We need to talk. I know we’ve never been on the best terms. Hell, I fucking hated you and found you completely irrelevant for years. But now that I’ve softened (in the stomach), and come around to your usefulness, I was hoping we could start over and foster a kinder, mutually-respectful relationship – one based on honesty and truthfulness, no matter how ugly in your unforgivably-bright fluorescent light. To that end, I need to tell you something, and I don’t want you to get mad or fly off the elliptical handle.
You stink. You really do. Even at the stinkiest I’ve ever been in my life (following four days of not-showering and sweating out a severe case of mono in the infirmary circa 1994) I did not smell as bad as you sometimes do. Maybe you need more ventilation, or air freshener, or a regular dose of Febreze pumping through your iron-pumping denizens – whatever is happening now is not working. Please do something about it, or our new relationship just isn’t going to last.
Sincerely,
My Agitated Olfactory Senses
