The World According To Me

In my little town, there are two main gyms. There's one which is shiny and new, huge, with modern equipment, chicks who dress in lycra, lots of classes and a 'can-do' vibe about it. Can-do vibes shit me.

The second is a bit out of the way, cheaper fees, older equipment and a keen but unwritten tracksuit and baggy t-shirt policy - no lycra allowed. That's the one I've been a member of for the past 3½ years.

There are a couple of 'other' gyms - one is a blokes only, weights-and-mirrors only one where the patrons are apparently known to indulge in such substances that make their muscles bigger and their doodles smaller. The other is new and a bit out of town and I don't know anyone who goes there. Oh, and there's the one that is women only, and it's part of an international chain of gyms. I don't know anyone who goes there either.

The second gym is great, not many people who go there take themselves seriously, there's people of all ages and sizes and fitness levels etc. When I was going through my gym phase, I would be there 7 days a week and the regular patrons aren't afraid of coming up and saying hello and having a chat while you're doing your darndest not to fall off the treadmill through distraction. It's a bit like family there. And my favourite instructor sounds like the turtle from 'Finding Nemo'…."Woah…dude….you can like, totally push yourself harder….totally…." which is annoying yes, but endlessly amusing.

Except I haven't been for at least 5 months. It started when Pom and I met, you know, you're too busy going out on lovely dates and shagging madly and daydreaming to have the time or energy to go and do a Bodypump class or what have you. So my visits dwindled down over the course of a few months from 5 times a week to weekly, to once every so often, to nothing. Meanwhile, the $50 is still being direct-debited out of my account every month and I'm not doing anything about it.

So when a colleague showed me a special limited offer for the first, snobby gym, I actually looked at it rather than screwing it up and filing it in the circular filing cabinet (Oh, how Brent-esque - the laffs!). It provides for a full membership (at the second gym I didn't have a membership that included the pool, on account of the fact that I'm scared of cossies), at about $15 a month cheaper than what I'm paying now.

So I've done it.

I've defected.

To the 'can-do' gym, where the staff are super fucking friendly and look like they eat steak three times a day and drink protein shakes. Where fitness for them is an all-consuming lifestyle, and not just a part-time necessity so they can drink lots of beer and eat brie and still fit into their jeans. Where when they smile, the contrast between their solariumed faces and their laser-whitened, non-nicotine stained teeth cause a contrast so great it's unnerving.

Where the beautiful people go.


WHY OH WHY DID I DO IT?

Anyway, I've arranged to go and do a Bodybalance class tonight with a workmate, which will be my introduction to the new gym. I figure that some swishy, stretchy pilates type guff will be a nice, gentle start. However, seeing as though I've not done ANY gym work for so long, it'll probably render me unable to walk/laugh/cough tomorrow without spasming in pain. And there's a nice meditation bit at the end where you lie down and they light candles and play whale noises or some shit and you almost fall asleep. Sweet.

Wish me luck.