Welcom to Fold's Gym

Welcome to Folds Gym
I have never been as embarrassed in my life as I was the day I went to the gym to begin losing weight. The Doctor said I had to lose 100 pounds. Hey, I have already lost twenty pounds in the last two months.
Now make no mistake about it, twenty pounds off of me is like a pimple on an elephants butt. It is hardly noticeable.
My physician suggested that I go to this exclusive men’s spa. There I could get with a personal trainer and he would help me get into the best shape of my life; Yeah sure, like I was never svelte before. I’ll have you know that when I came home from Vietnam in 1967 I weighed 169 pounds. I had a 46-inch chest, a 35-inch waist and 20-inch biceps. I was a sight to behold and be held as well.
So I get to the club and am introduced to Mark. Mark is a world bicycle racing champion. I took one look at this skinny little guy and about puked. Have you ever seen how scrawny these guys are? Ha! He was going to whip me into shape? I don’t think so. These are the guys that wear Speedo’s, and run in packs and never obey the rules of the road.
When I got into the room he was just completing his second of four sets of push-ups. There were 200 push-ups to each set. He then proceeded to knock out 400 sit-ups. Now get real, real men don’t do this crap.
I asked him what he was going to have me do first. He told me, “Bear, we’ll start with some simple reverse leg lifts. Now just you lie right here on your stomach and hook the backs of your ankles in front of the bar and pull it up towards your back. It is only 35 pounds.”
Crap, 35 pounds would be mere child’s play for the 1967 version of Bear. I about crapped my pants trying to pull that dang bar up. My back went into spasms and my butt let out the most gosh-awful sound you ever did hear. What was wrong with that damn fool? He said it was only 35 pounds. I almost killed myself, and told him what I thought of his dumb weights. No wonder they call them dumb bells.
Then he hauls off and throws me the biggest insult of my life. He called over Victoria. “Vicky,” he said, lie down here and show Mr. Smith how easily this is done."
If that woman weighed 110 lbs, I’ll kiss your little behind. Now she walked over. You know the type, don’t you? Every part of her fit in the right place; dressed in a cute little two piece outfit with the leggings and Nike aerobic shoes, and that ever-present damn toothy wide mouth grin that just spoke of how wonderful she was, and how pathetic she thought you were.
Miss Victoria lay down and asked Mark to increase the weight to 100 pounds. Then, with a sideways glance, that little witch wrinkled her little pug nose at me, winked, and proceeded to knock off 3 reps of 25 each.
Well that was enough. I would not, nor could I, stay there and take this abuse. Even fat guys have feelings. I called my Doctor and told him just what I thought of his day spa and the pedigree of his Mother.
Doctor Feel Good suggested I go over to the new Folds Gym. It was just for guys just like me.
Now we were getting somewhere; a place where average guys could go and work out. This was a real man’s place. Just walking in there, the pungent odor of sweat and dirty socks hit you squarely in the face.
At the front counter stood Adrian; he stood 6 foot tall and weighed around 365 pounds and was dressed in a blue spandex bottom and a canary yellow tank top that had “the world’s greatest lover” written across the chest. Now to say that he looked ridiculous was an understatement. His voice was very high pitched and his head was as shiny as a billiard ball. That would not have been so bad if his eyebrows didn’t spread from ear to ear.
I explained to him that my doctor had recommended Folds Gym because it was the kind of place where fat guys felt more comfortable. Now at 6 foot and 280 pounds I don’t consider myself too fat. I can’t wear a belt because I have no behind. I have to wear suspenders to keep by britches up.
The club’s manager, Maurice, waltzed up and held out his hand and introduced himself. “Hello,” he said, “I am Maurice White, the club manager.” As he shook my hand, I noticed his hand was about twice the size of mine and sweaty. “O Lord, I thought to myself, you’re in trouble now.” This guy’s butt was the size of a small Volkswagen and I swear it had to look like a cauliflower patch. He had more lumps than Aunt Bessie’s gravy. He proceeded to point out the picture over hanging the club juice bar where the five original founders were displayed in their splendor. At last, a fat man’s workout center where real men could meet together in a common cause of working out, losing weight, and not feel ashamed to stand in the shower.
I had to rethink that thought as I went into the steam room. It was a room 15’ X 15’ with three tiers, and filled with 13 of the most grotesque looking aberrations of nature. Fortunately each one had a towel around his waist. Actually, it really wasn’t a towel; it was a small circus tent. The steam was very, very thick and the sounds from “The Girl from Ipanema” were being played over the intercom. The only saving grace of the entire experience was the fact that the steam was so thick you could not see a thing and to drown out the smell of the sweat they had a hot pan of water filled with Eucalyptus oil to cleanse your sinuses.
The conversation ranged from how alluring the new tennis coach was to the horrid concoction they served at the juice bar. Yuck! This was a fat man’s bar. How come they ain’t got no milk shakes, banana splits, and hot fudge sundaes? I think that I would be far better just simply going on a raw cauliflower diet than having to endure the embarrassment of admitting and showing off to the world just how fat I really am.
Women have it so good. They never have to go through the sweating process and smell like a horse. Simply because women don’t sweat; they glisten moistly. Unfortunately, our 24-hour deodorant never quite makes it through the first 40 minutes.
So fat men of the world rejoice there is a place where you can go and work out and not be ashamed of the extra folds in your skin or the size of your girth. Rejoice there is a haven for fat men and it is known as FOLDS GYM FOR THE UNIQUELY SIZED MAN.

Welcom to Fold's Gym


Ogden, United States

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Rejoice there is a haven for fat men and it is known as FOLDS GYM FOR THE UNIQUELY SIZED MAN.

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