How about I roll out of bed, throw on a humungous 2010 Bust a Move T-shirt, fire my hair into a ponytail, and go to the gym, and I’m surrounded by members of The Pussycat Dolls in full-on matching outfits and war paint? Ladies, this is the gym. This isn’t Vegas or the Dome. It’s not even Le Chateau. You’re here to work out. Sweat. Look disgusting.
If you’re straightening your hair before you go to the gym, you’re doing it wrong. If you’re applying liquid eyeliner and contouring blush before you go to the gym, you’re doing it wrong. If you’re not cringing at your appearance in front of the locker room mirror, even just a little, you’re doing it wrong.
You can’t get results if you’re rocking a Bump-It and smelling like a cloud of Britney’s newest Wal-Mart feature fragrance. The gym is a place to work out. It’s not a mating ground unless you’re really into Jersey Shore extras and geriatric men wearing white kneesocks. You aren’t going to be discovered by a casting agent or a modeling scout. Especially in Lower Sackville. You might get spotted by your Boston Pizza waitress from a couple weeks ago. That’s as high-profile as it’s going to get.
If you’re spending more than 10 minutes getting ready to go to the gym – you need to stop.