A whole new experience
Let me tell you my woeful experience when the fitness bug bit me and I decided to join a new gym. I didn’t know there were rules to be followed before joining a gym. Oh! You don’t know them either let me introduce you to some
In order to belong to a neo-world (what is a neo-world? I don’t know myself) you need to belong to a gym. And mind you in order to belong to an A-class gym you must first belong to a c-class gym, a b-class gym and slowly move up the ladder. Why, you may ask
That’s because you don’t come to lose wait in an A-class gym you come there to be spotted. Hence shed the extra kilos before you move up the ladder
The second rule is you come in wearing designer workout clothes in which you don’t sweat (actually no sweating is a general rule)
Your hair has to be perfect and poker straight (if it’s the latest fashion). Actually I sometimes wonder if ironing the hair means making your hair pump iron so that they don’t move
Unaware of all these social etiquettes I entered the first day in gym pants two-sizes too large and t-shirt three sizes too large. Needless to say I was looked down upon the PYTs ‘exercising’ out there. Actually they were swinging the dumb bells while checking their make-ups in the mirror. I was assigned a bored looking instructor who was more interested in whether her nail polish was clashing with her outfit or not. She generally pointed in the direction of exercise machines (which looked like you needed to get an engineering degree before you tried them out) and scurried towards the entrance when she saw a slightly successful actor entering.
I was looking like a scared duck ready to bolt when another instructor (this one was obsessed with her hair) took pity on me and helped me out
Truly traumatized by such experience I showed up the next day during ladies timing hoping that the instructors would not be too distracted by the hunks (or should I say hulks)
Well the instructors (this time middle-aged ones) were not too distracted. They were simply too busy swapping recipes with bored housewives who were talking more and walking less. Soon the conversation turned to husbands, in-laws, kids and less exercising was done.
Sighing I decided to give up my pursuit of health and fitness. The trauma of the experience however may have left lasting scars on my mind.
In order to belong to a neo-world (what is a neo-world? I don’t know myself) you need to belong to a gym. And mind you in order to belong to an A-class gym you must first belong to a c-class gym, a b-class gym and slowly move up the ladder. Why, you may ask
That’s because you don’t come to lose wait in an A-class gym you come there to be spotted. Hence shed the extra kilos before you move up the ladder
The second rule is you come in wearing designer workout clothes in which you don’t sweat (actually no sweating is a general rule)
Your hair has to be perfect and poker straight (if it’s the latest fashion). Actually I sometimes wonder if ironing the hair means making your hair pump iron so that they don’t move
Unaware of all these social etiquettes I entered the first day in gym pants two-sizes too large and t-shirt three sizes too large. Needless to say I was looked down upon the PYTs ‘exercising’ out there. Actually they were swinging the dumb bells while checking their make-ups in the mirror. I was assigned a bored looking instructor who was more interested in whether her nail polish was clashing with her outfit or not. She generally pointed in the direction of exercise machines (which looked like you needed to get an engineering degree before you tried them out) and scurried towards the entrance when she saw a slightly successful actor entering.
I was looking like a scared duck ready to bolt when another instructor (this one was obsessed with her hair) took pity on me and helped me out
Truly traumatized by such experience I showed up the next day during ladies timing hoping that the instructors would not be too distracted by the hunks (or should I say hulks)
Well the instructors (this time middle-aged ones) were not too distracted. They were simply too busy swapping recipes with bored housewives who were talking more and walking less. Soon the conversation turned to husbands, in-laws, kids and less exercising was done.
Sighing I decided to give up my pursuit of health and fitness. The trauma of the experience however may have left lasting scars on my mind.
posted by shreya | 2:50 AM
2 Comments:
I would have joined the slot where all the ladies.. talk about thier mother in laws, husbands, affairs, boyfriends, sister in laws, recipes.. etc
that would have made me more angry , giving me more power any steroids would to pump some more...
now I know .. the reason Hulka-fulka
Well serious exersise enthusiasts need'nt waste their time at A-grade gyms. I guess the trauma of your visiccitudes at the gym are pretty obvious in the spikeless contours of your anterior ductors
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