The gym is such an interesting microcosm. Mirrors are everywhere. Open wide spaces. People looking at themselves. People looking at each other. And more yet, people looking at other people looking at themselves. It's kind of like the prisons Foucault talks about one of his books, where the prisoner comports his behavior based on his perception that someone is always watching him, even if no one in fact is. The idea of being watched causes a person to act very differently.
Visible flab, light weights, cellulite are all shamed in a gym. Perhaps shame is the mechanism that motivates people to work out more. That, or vanity.
And as I am literally forced to look at other people working out or stretching, I am confronted with the vision of women with flawless, sculpted bodies. It's odd that though I'm aware of the gym's voyeuristic atmosphere and glorified vanity, I still can't help but want to have that perfect toned body.
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