I am my bicep

For a while I entertained notions of ging to the gym, in an effort to get out the house and do something active when I wasn't studying. Reading does not lend itself to a well maintained body after all. But, more than that, it was something to do. Residence life isn't all pomp and excitment, sometimes it gets downright dull and no amount of videogames can save you from that.
Stuart was in the changeroom looking as if he had just showered. "Frequent the gym, Stu?" I asked.
"Only to get clean. Second-best place to bathe on campus."
"The first being... ?"
"Generally one of a residence showers, if the residents understand how to clean a bath tub." He walked out whisteling. I couldn't help but notice he had hung his towel up inside a day-use locker. One that, in point of fact, never really seemed to be free.
I went to the gym off and on for a few weeks. I think the cardio machines were kind of fun, in their own way. I had no clue how to lift weights properly and probably did more damage than good. In short, my heart wasn't really in it.
One day, i arrived in the gym with my towel over my shoulder to see a man hop off a machine and promtly kiss his biceps, first right then left, with sharp motions.

I turned around, left the gym, and never went back.