Ya, I’m serious. They all LAUGHED. Thanks guys. Just look at the comments:
With friends like these, who needs enemies! Ha!
Truth is, these friends know me well, my idea of exercise is walking to the fridge, lifting hand to mouth, running after naughty dog when he gets my slipper in his mouth, chasing the ice cream truck down the road… you get the picture.
My lifestyle doesn’t exactly fit in with my husband’s über healthy lifestyle. He, who drinks gallons of water, gets up before the sun to go for a jog, goes to the gym “for fun,” eats Rye bread and drinks all these weird potions from white tubs with pictures of body builders with fake tans.
So now you think I am going to say that I feel inspired, that I want to change my lifestyle, blah, blah, blah. Well no. I went through that, remember. When I decided to take up running for all of three weeks. So no, I’m not going to go down that road again. I joined the gym as a way to spend more time with my husband. That’s about it. I like to swim, probably the only form of exercise I am particularly fond of, and I’m pretty good at it which helps. By that I mean I don’t make a fool of myself in the pool, whereas on the gym circuit I look like a cross between Mr Bean and a drunk person. It’s awful to watch, I am sure.
So currently my gym workout looks like this:
1. Model around the gym in my fabulous gym gear provided by my friend Linda. Love these gym clothes with all the secret pockets for your keys, gym card, lip gloss, phone, sweets. Kidding. I only take my phone and gym card.
2. Make conversation at the water cooler with anyone who fancies a natter. This apparently is frowned upon, NO ONE wants to chat at the gym. Why?
3. Stroll on the treadmill. My husband says that I should at least try to make like I’m working out because there are people waiting to use the machinery. Sorry.
4. Laugh at the people in the classes. OH MY WORD. Funniest thing EVERRRR. Shame, not everyone can keep up with the instructor, hey. I may eat these words tomorrow, as I’ve signed up for a Zumba class and I actually have no idea what Zumba is. Sounds like Samba, so I’m imagining some kind of dancing. Party over here, whoop whoop!
5. Do the circuit thingy with my husband. He makes me do “reps” and I’m like we’ve done this already, let’s move onto the next shiny machine please. The only thing I haven’t jumped on yet is that plate machine that shakes all your fat AWAY. And I don’t think I’ll ever get on it unless we’re the only people there. I do not want the whole gym to witness my shaky butt and thighs, thank you very much.
6. Cool down. My favourite part. I sit on the couch and regroup after a hectic workout.
7. Hide my face in absolute embarrassment at the boobs, butts and other weirdly shaped lady bits in the change room. Guys, I am not a prude. I have no issues with nudity in the home. None, whatsoever. I am the mother who changes her children (kalgat) wherever we are, if we need to. No issues. But man, all those naked ladies walking around FREAK me out COMPLETELY. I don’t know what to do with my eyes. And I most definitely do not prance around in my birthday suit like that. This one lady stood at the blow dryer bending forwards and backwards in an effort to create maximum hair volume or whatever and I was HORRIFIED. Here was I, back in high school, as I awkwardly try to get my bra on without exposing any nip ple and there was Brooke Shields AKA Blue Lagoon AKA naked-as-the-day-you-were born, tossing her hair around in all her birthday suit glory. No man.
So that’s my gym experience to date. I have enjoyed swimming with the kids; wish I had started this earlier because I would have endured much less whining as they stare forlornly out the window at our green swimming pool asking “wheeeeeeeen will Winter be over so we can swim?” I also enjoy leaving them at home and spending that time with my husband, this is 2014 people, spending time with your loved one often means incorporating two activities into one because there are only so many hours in the day. Working out together is considered date night for some. Or in our case, one working out while the other goofs around.
Not sure that I’ll be Instagramming at the gym, my husband rolls his eyes when I want to start taking photos. He can’t understand why I have to bring my phone to the gym… AS PROOF THAT I WAS EVER THERE, HELLO.