Body builder's nightmare

I am a member of a gym called RDX. I believe it's a chain owned by some multinational company. RDX is supposed to be this chemical which explodes and is quite the favourite of terrorists and people with such violent intentions. What it's got to do with body building beats me. I mean, unless they want our bodies to explode. The people who come there are big enough to split up anyway. Love handles, rolls and bulges are a dime a dozen. I feel like a drought victim from mid Africa amongst them. The place is like a zoo, honestly. The men, which include the trainers and those who are regulars, all walk like gorillas. All of them have huge biceps and shoulders and are constantly admiring themselves in the wall length mirrors that line the gym. In fact, one of the first things I learnt here was never to stand between a weight lifter and his mirror. You'll be shooed out or blasted with RDX.
The women comfort themselves with the treadmills, cycles and the crosstrainers (a contraption that makes you feel you are walking on the moon). For a hygiene and odour freak like me the gym is a nightmare. I see sweat on the machines, exercise mats and even on the weights. Ok. That's an exaggeration. But summers can be unpleasant even though the place has zillions of air conditioners working overtime. But the funniest part is the groans from body builders as they try and lift weights. Sounds like cries from the hospital's maternity ward! I've lost a couple of kilos already and I know why.