Excuse Me? I Have to Swipe In At the School Gym?

"I'm a survivor." - My Swipe/Destiny's Child

I walk in. I'm wearing headphones, absolutely les miz about the fact that I'm about to move at a faster pace than usual for upwards of 30 minutes. (... But can I just not?)

I'm sporting a red zip up that makes me feel just sporty-chic enough to pretend I "work out" (definition please?) and I'm sipping on the water bottle I just bought to motivate me to attend my annual gym sesh.

Then, greeted by two old men* (ok, who are you people?) I'm asked to swipe into MY gym. Do I even go here? ... Do you mean do YOU even go here?

I'm sorry. I'm pretty sure my tuition alone could have purchased every single one of those "treadmills" that have a solid inch between the band and the bottom (you know what I mean, like it's scraping with each step and you kind of feel like you're running on a trampoline which lest we forget are NOT made for running on) AND all of the ellipticals that have "out of service" signs more often than not.

Not to mention the fact that I'm 4 years strong with my swipe (which is cracked and works maybe fourteen percent of the time) so I have to stand at the desk proving my identity by oscillating back and forth until a green light finally permits me into the mutha fuggin gym.

I'm annoyed. I go here.

*No disrespect to my elders. You're wise.