Next time you’re in a gym, take a look around you. There’s a good chance you’ll be surrounded by mirrors on four sides, reflecting images of yourself (and that cute girl working out behind you) at a variety of angles . These are designed to make you either 1) bask in your pumped-up, flexible, toned glory or 2) fuel your self-loathing rage enough to garner an additional rep.
I’m convinced that every male in the gym sees #1 in the mirrors and that every female sees #2. No matter how fat or repulsive a guy is, in that gym floor mirror he’s able to convince himself that he’s a valuable piece of real estate. “This isn’t so bad,” he’ll think, sucking in his bulbous gut as bright florescent light glitters from his sweaty, balding scalp. “I’ve still got it.”
Meanwhile a slim and attractive 20-something is running on the treadmill, as she has for the last 30 minutes, furiously attempting to outrun the image staring her in the face. “Look at all that FAT,” she’ll think, completely oblivious to the three guys running on treadmills next to her that keep falling down due to distraction. She’ll finish up and smile at a guy as she walks to the water fountain, but the guy will nervously turn away. “I’d better throw in some situps,” she’ll conclude. “These guys don’t even want to make eye contact with me.”
Mistopia: Post-Collegiate America 