Trash talkin' at the aquarium
A while ago, someone asked what male privilege is. Sometimes, examples speak louder than definitions.
At first, I couldn't figure out why there were so many old geezers on the Stairmasters, or why everyone else in the gym was clustered down at the other end. About a minute into my workout, it became obvious. The fitness center is directly opposite the swimming pool, separated by a pane of glass. Olympic synchronized swimmers on one side, old geezers on the other.
As far as they were concerned, it was like being at the aquarium.
In between wheezes, four old, fat, bald stair climbers felt entitled to keep up a (very loud) running commentary about the bodies of the Canadian Olympic B team.
"I...(pant, pant)...like the other coach better."
"Her tits are too small."
"Yeah, but she's got a nice ass."
"She'd be pretty if she smiled more."
I was tempted to tell them that I preferred to see men without guts and back hair, like the guys on the elliptical trainers. Luckily I didn't, because the ring leader turned out to be married to someone from my mom's water aerobics class.
Turns out, trash talkin' at the aquarium is a trend.