'Oh my god, are you OK?' was the question that greeted me upon returning from the gym one afternoon. 'Yes Mum, I'm fine.' After reassuring her I was still alive, and downing another bottle of Buxton, I reminded myself for the umpteenth time why, oh why, I was doing this. It wasn't that I disliked running on a stationary machine, sweating away all traces of last nights make-up or having to face the reality that there were women out there with much more toned abs than me. After all, why wouldn't I enjoy this? No, as much as I have tried to convince myself of my unconditional love for the gym, in all honesty I could think of 102 better things to do with my time.
Ah, the gym. The number one hot spot for arrogant, self-obsessed, yet muscular (if this is any compensation) fitness fanatics. You know the type. The please-ask-me-what-I-bench-press type. As I perspire the water content of my entire body, I can't help but feel a pang of envy as these super humans stroll past. Their perfectly toned physiques, their ability to run whilst appearing unflustered and their determination to make lifting 200kg look easy. Yes, I admit a tiny part of me wants to be a part of their exclusive club. However, the larger part of me believes that this is shallow, pretentious and quite frankly, a waste of time. I find the men, on the whole, are the worst. Leaning by the exercise machine boasting loudly to their equally muscular friend about how much they weigh, I feel a strong urge to throw my bottle of Buxton at their heads. Now, I appreciate a bit of muscle as much as the next woman, but do I care about how much you weigh? Or what you bench press? Or how many sit ups you can do whilst lifting a 100kg weight in your mouth? NO, I never have and I never will, and I can't help thinking there are many women out there that feel the same. Did it ever occur to these alpha males that we might find this a little bit boring? And as much as women like to look at a bit of muscle every now and then, we don't want it constantly beaten into our eardrums. Personally, I'd rather talk about cake with a guy who was morbidly obese.
The women, I find easier to forgive. Perhaps because I can convince myself that women feel under more pressure to be what men want. As pathetic as that is, I can sympathise with them more easily than the ignorant fools with the over sized muscles. Maybe that's just me.
Having said all this, the gym allows for the ordinary ones among us (you and me) to join in order to lose that holiday weight, or shed 100 pounds. And for that reason, I'm entirely appreciative. Let's reduce obesity in the UK. Let's all join a gym and devote some time in our busy lives to look after our own health. But let's do this without obsessing over our abs, cellulite or muscle. After all, it's what's inside that counts, right?
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