Gym Diaries

This is a path treaded and dreaded by several, I reminded myself as I passed the swimming pool with glass walls where some older ladies floated like otters in an aquarium. I stared and they stared back nonchalantly.

I went inside with my partner in crime into the gym that was so decorated in red that it looked like somebody had a frickin’ La Tomatina in there.  As soon as we introduced ourselves and asked about membership, a flurry of well-coordinated events followed. (Flurry to us, well-coordinated to them, just to be clear) We were delivered to the manager of the branch who looked like he was expecting us to walk in and had he had access to garlands, would have proceeded to throw it around our necks and captured the moment in photograph for eternity. Unfortunately he didn’t have any at his disposal and so we proceeded to just follow him around like ducklings searching for water in planet Mars.

After watching beefed up men motivate their reflections, hot lady pull herself up in a chin-up, another not so hot lady lift inflated balls while half standing on another ball, people sprawled on floor mats with more balls on their tummies and a lonely bald guy sweating it out doing a Savasanam inside the hot Yoga studio, we were convinced we belonged here.

The membership options provided to us were plenty and our choice, the usual. The cheapest one please. More advice on why we need a personal trainer who will come for grocery shopping with us. Or something like that. I was making googly eyes at a hot trainer behind the manager to really catch it. Hopefully my friend did. But by the way she was looking at the manager, I have my doubts.

We won this round and enrolled for the cheapest plan. Next was the shock of my life delivered as an appointment for an assessment by a trainer.  A trainer explained to us that on an appointed time, another trainer will go through a series of questions, make you do some exercise and tell you where you stand in the health meter to point you in the right direction. I asked alarmingly about the consequence of failing in it and was greeted by laughter from all around which my friend also happily joined. As if it never crossed her mind. May be it didn’t. The manager  said there will be a buzzer sound, a big X sign will flash and I will be disqualified. I walked out after paying with mental images of me walking the walk of shame in branded work out clothes.

Well, we Malayalees say, as we have anyway got wet, might as well make it a bath. Thanks monsoon for the profound saying that I will now apply to this snow trapped country.

TBC

Courtesy : spreadshirt.co.uk

( Pic sourtesy: spreadshirt.co.uk. Please don’t sue me.)

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