Gymnasium

I am surrounded by Ken dolls, Ryan Seacrest wannabes, and New Years Resolutionaires...

The Ken dolls are on the weights, the wannabes are on the elliptical and the resolutionaries... well, they're trying.

And then there is me...
A white, skinny, scrawny guy looking to gain some muscle.

I'm not a Ken doll, not really a wannabe, I'm sort of a resolutionist... but not really.

When I enter this sanctuary of masculinity, I feel everyones eyes shift onto me and not in the way that the Ken dolls or the wannabes get looked at.

I feel like I'm being dissected. Perhaps, they too are wondering where my social standing is in their domain...
As I stand next to the track, I stretch out my weak, skinny limbs.
I catch a few glances from Ryan on the elliptical and Ken on the bench press...
Are they judging or are they attracted to me...?

I can never tell.

I finally approach the track, take a deep breath and I begin a steady jog.
My legs may be steady, but my mind is cycling through a slew of worries.
"Don't trip, keep a steady pace, don't slow down..."

If it makes me so uncomfortable, why do I still feel the need to come here...?

I look around and I realize that, even though I may be judged, analyzed and silently criticized...
We're all here for the same reason...

To become more desirable...

They can judge me all they want, but in the end, we mutually share a need to go there every day...

We're all running on this hedonistic treadmill