SO, I joined a gym!

I like “joining” gyms. It’s the best part of gymming.

I’m always calculating when’s the right time to join … “Hummm, let’s see, when do I want to get fitter? After next Sunday, for my next birthday, right after this test, or on Republic Day?”

And then there’s the pre-gym fattening I go through.
“Well, I’m going to “join” a gym and get six-pack abs next Sunday onwards anyway. Let me act like a food gobbling maniac till that point. What’s that chicken? ya, put some more. Some more. Yes, open the fourth can. I’m going to burn all that up, starting next Sunday. Actually let’s make it the 1st of next month.”

I just need a membership to feel fitter. I did move my butt to go and pretend to check out the “work out area” and pay the folks wearing the tight orange wickedly uncomfortable clothes, a bomb. I think I’ve done my part. I’m good!

***

I don’t like the gym, I joined this time around.
For one, when I pay them that kind of money, I don’t want them to call me fat. I want them to call me … King.
I want them to speak in my language, and play my music.
In fact, in all fairness, they should be working out for me, and I should just get fitter.
I’m also extremely disappointed with the female population of the gym. Isn’t that a tacitly understood part of the deal?
I want some really hot females, wearing very gym-ish clothes, just hanging around for me.

If I’m taking the effort of looking like an idiot, panting, and sweating, cycling on a bike with it’s wheels lifted a feet above the floor, that has an odometer telling me how far I would have gone, if the supports were to come off; I want some of the above mentioned kind just hanging around to remind me why I am doing all this in the first place!

***

I don’t like my instructor. And, it has not everything to do with his mush.
It’s just the condescending look he gives me; and, his questions I can’t take:

“So, how long have you been fat?”
What, he wants like a specific date? How about the 3rd of June 1994.

“Can you run for 30 mins on this at Level 3, without fainting?”
I don’t know, you freak of nature! You tell me, you are the one wearing fluorescent colored vinyl. Can I ?

The other day, he looks at me up & down and goes,“14 mins on the fx-127 level 13, stay at 54 rpm”
No, really? He got that by just looking at me? and what on earth is the fx-127 ?

Now, I’m in my late early twenties, and have bullied my share of younger boys. But, I’m at some level scared of this guy!

Maybe it’s because he reminds me of all the PT coaches from torturous childhood. I’ve been in many schools, in many places, and these guys were the same everywhere. i.e : They were horrible to me!

What’s with these PT folks, why do they walk around like they own the world, picking on the geeky fat kids?
What is their big achievement in life?
That they couldn’t find a job as a regular teacher?
And what was their job profile really? I don’t remember them teaching anyone any sports!
What did the recruitment ad say?

“HIRING! Beefy scary looking guys, who can pretend to know sports; refuse to give “the ball” to students eager to play; wear funny clothing in public; and can pick on fat kids”.


If I could meet them now .. grrr

That’s it, I’m going to deal with this guy !

***

So, it’s time for me to hit the gym. They are going to literally make me RUN for my MONEY … on the fx-127!