This ain't your mama's YMCA....well, on second thought....

So since it had recently come to my attention (ahem, I finally got a job) that I would be sticking around NWI for a while, I decided to scout out the local gyms. Knew there were a few potential national chains, whose membership I could just switch over whenever I left town. But none appealed and I chose to stick with what's cheap, non-contract, and what I know: the YMCA. The Hammond, Ind. YMCA, mind you.

And those four letters are where its similarities to its Chicago counterpart end.

The Lakeview YMCA was great - cheap, fairly full but never overwhelming, great location, easy-enough parking. Upon walking into the Hammond version last Sunday, I knew this was a whole different club. First sight? 80-year-old men playing pool in the middle of the 'fun room,' as I would learn this is called. They all looked up when I walked in, shocked at the room's immediate plunging average age. Awesome. Hiya, fellas, here to join the gym.

So I get the little 'tour,' which consists of learning how the sauna works and that 12 times around the small weight/equipment room equals 1 mile, in case I'd like to run it. I wouldn't, but thanks. I'm a simple girl, so I see the machines I want, like the $30/mo. no contract system and sign myself back into the Village.

My favorite parts of the gym thus far: the fact that, at least during the day in my last free non-work week, it's totally dead. And even when I think it'll be 'hopping' after work, I anticipate no gym 'scene' of body-building meatheads doing reps, or 19-year-old chicks getting ready for spring break.

Also a treat, the posted note in the women's locker room that reads something like this: You are free to walk around naked. If you choose to walk around naked, please understand that some people may not be comfortable with this. Please use discretion when you're all kinds of naked. Because we don't really wanna see your jacked body. (I added that last part). Now y'all know how the Catholic upbringing has made me a bit, well, blush-able. But with the gym, I'm not too bad. Get pretty used to seeing the nakedness around the locker room and hell, I've become more comfortable myself with changing. But ya know, it's still kinda jarring to walk right in and, oh - there's a 60-year-old boob. Hm. Let's just say I appreciate the point of the sign.

My least favorite part: the people who work there. Well, not really, but when I was enrolling, the towel/desk woman was gabbing with a regular about how they 'just can't get a decent preacher for the church. I mean, someone asked me the other day, what do you pray for? And I said, a new preacher!' (Uproarious laughter between them). Just don't want to get a sermon along with my workout one of these days is all's I'm sayin'...