Going To The Gym: A Memoir

By Riley.
DISCLAIMER: I wrote this when I should have been at the gym. Same thing, right?

OK, so you’re on a quest to adopt a healthier lifestyle, improve your mental wellbeing, and want a bangin’ bod by the time you’re through. There are a plethora of articles out there that go through the good, the bad, and the protein farts to get you ready for your new found love of fitness and give you the best possible guidance for achieving the results YOU want.
This is not one of those articles.
When did I get so fat?
Whenever I do decide I might like to lose a few pounds, I prepare myself for a cognitive shift. Suddenly, you’ll feel three stone heavier than you actually are, battle intense guilt when you don’t drop down into 20 burpees every time you go to the loo, and wonder if, wait, am I waddling now?!
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We’re all dickheads.
I’d guess a solid 60% of those in the gym are judging. Judging me. Judging the bulging meathead with the face tattoos. Judging their own best mate as they spot them. It doesn’t matter — that’s what we do. My advice? Throw yourself right in the deep end. Take the treadmill nearest the stairs, wander over to the weights section (but know what the hell you’re going to do when you get there), find a machine that’s occupied and wait for it. They wanna people- watch? BE SEEN.
Gym bunnies.
Yep, there she is. Perfect tan. Perfect makeup. Not a hair out of place. Probably some sort of Scandinavian gene in there. There will always be a gym bunny up her own coochie, walking around like she owns the place. Ignore her and embark on your own personal fitness journey WORK HARDER UNTIL SHE ACCEPTS YOU.satc6
Saying goodbye.
OK, so gym bunny bruised your ego and motivation is at an all-time low. This is where I like to start a cycle of booking a gym class, pestering my friend to go, and subsequently doing anything else besides bleach my arsehole to avoid it.
Bathroom scales: A story of betrayal.
This is where shit gets tense. Having weighed yourself at the beginning of the month and attending not three, but FOUR gym classes since then, you’re ready to see the goods. You’re forgiven, then, for taking the scales back to Argos and unleashing a fit of rage on Darren the checkout boy because it dares to tell you that you’ve lost one. measly. pound.
The second wind.
I like to yoyo between, ‘Good nutrition and exercise is the key to happiness’ and ‘Dominos is the only real thing in my life’ – and that’s OK! After a three day binge of takeaways, wine, and a full jar of Reece’s chocolate spread, you’ll be ready to change your ways. Ready to challenge yourself like you’ve never challenged yourself before. Just get ready for that empowering feeling to melt away as soon as you’ve walked through those double doors and spent 40 minutes judging others, avoiding eye contact with gym bunny, and inevitably ransacking McDonalds on the drive home.
What are your love/hate opinions on gym life? Or – more importantly – can’t we just get fit watching SATC reruns?

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