Gym Bunny

I have decided since dropping 2 dress sizes that I do in fact LOVE shopping for clothes, but because I also LOVE eating Gregg's doughnuts WAY too much for my own good that I should do the unthinkable and actually join a proper gym. *gulp*

I've never joined a proper gym before, just toyed around with the idea of going to a naff little gym - you know the ones with only like three pieces of equipment and no-one goes to them, those ones. I never really wanted to go to a swanky gym filled with buff people working out in slow motion and glistening with a sexy sweat sheen. Because I would ruin that, I'd be there huffing and puffing, face all beet red and attractive, sweat pouring from every pore as I lumber into something resembling a wobbly run. Hideous.

However seeing as I'm now starting to resemble someone with actual fitness skills, I thought why not? And joined a rather exclusive gym, because I've got more money than sense apparently.

I was still slightly apprehensive about heading to this establishment of fitness and muscles by myself so my sister decided to come with me as a guest, which was a brilliant move, so I thought.

However I was as usual proven wrong when I got home after a long busy day at work, I put on my gym gear, stretchy running pants (trouser pants, not knickers) which I'm in love with, I'll be honest and a baggy t-shirt belonging to my dad, comfy and kinda cute, especially when teamed with my brand new BRIGHT white trainers. I shove my hair into a messy ponytail and walk out to meet my sister dressed in the type of gym gear a playboy bunny would wear. Low slung cropped sweats, a cute baggy t-shirt tied tightly against her teeny size 8 frame, hanging off her shoulders exposing the strap of her sports bra, her hair in a perfect cute ponytail, and full makeup. I felt like a man in drag next to her. An ugly man in drag. :(

No matter, because one thing about my sister is that she makes me laugh more than anyone else in the world, we're on the same wavelength so we walked to the gym, laughing and joking all the way, and quickly get changed before heading in to the gym, trying to act like we belonged there, she made it look easy.

Now whilst my sister may be tiny and beautiful, it turns out, I can take her in a workout, whilst she's strolling on the running machine watching MTV. I'm running my tubby little legs off panting like a bull mastiff. She possibly has the right idea about attracting men at a gym, because after ten minutes she was still immaculate and I was sweating, panting, possibly a nice shade of red, gasping for breath and trying to hold my body weight up on admittedly shaky legs. Just as I'm trying desperately catch my breath a gorgeous muscle-bound Kellan Lutz (I love him) look-a-like comes over to me, smiles winningly whilst reaching for his locker key which was left on the shelf of my treadmill, I wish I could say I smiled beguiling back at him and entranced him with my feminine mystique, but the reality is I think I grimaced an attempt at a smile and went on wheezing.

After that fresh hell we move on to the rowing machine. I hate rowing machines, with a passion.

My sister once again sets up a nice casual pace whilst I go for the burn, after four minutes of frantic rowing, the lactic acid has kicked in and my muscles are screaming at me, I can't breathe, I'm pretty sure my stitch is down to internal bleeding and I'm just waiting to start sweating blood. I'm ready to quit but then I think of all those epic fatties on The Biggest Loser (If you've never seen it I suggest you do, it's AMAZING) and how they can carry on with intense workouts, so I grit my teeth and carry on. Three minutes later and I'm feeling pretty good again, so I'm proud that I hit the wall and plowed on through it.

After ten gruelling minutes, I slow to a stop and pull my feet out of the foot stirrups and as my sister jumps up as spritely as ever I sit completely still and ponder. Because the lactic acid has destroyed my legs and I literally could not stand up. I didn't want to even attempt to get up knowing that if I fell over in the gym I would have a year long membership to pay for knowing that I could never show my face there again.

Eventually I get up and am pleased when I don't immediately stack it.

On to the cross trainer, which is fine, nothing bad happens in the next ten minutes and my legs continue to work which is always a plus.

We then head to the changing rooms, a quick change into our swimwear and then in to the pool we go. Now I'm feeling slightly overdressed because I have one swimsuit and that is a beautiful royal blue bikini with gold ornate buckles, it's my holiday bikini and seems to flashy for a gym pool, but ho-hum that's just how I roll. Yes I realise I can't get away with that.

If I felt self-conscious before next to my tiny sister I felt doubly so in a bikini, I have never sucked in my stomach so much in my life, and walking with your buttocks clenched makes you look like you desperately need the loo, I don't suggest you do it.

In the pool I did more laughing than swimming because my sister has the ability to crack me up in any situation, and when she stubbed her toes on the bottom of the pool then spun around in a circle holding her knee to her chest, I almost drowned laughing so hard.

However when we got into the hot tub to relax I managed to stub my toe - karma some might say - and she then repaid my earlier laughter with raucous chuckles of her own.

Then we decided to go into the steam room before hitting the showers, I love steam rooms, the heat, the eucalyptus, it's all so good. We walk in and there's a couple of ladies and a very muscly man, I'm a sucker for muscles and so I suck in my stomach once again and saunter in, try to sit down lady-like and the loudest fart sound emits when I sit on the stone.

I am beyond mortified, hoping that everyone in the vicinity didn't think that it was my body emitting the sound, luckily the woman next to me pipes up. "There's no lady-like way to sit in here without that embarrassing sound."
As much as that reassures me the damage has been done and I am now too on edge to move into a comfortable position, the man is now looking at me, so I can't relax and let my stomach stick out in any way whatsoever and taking shallow breaths in a steam room is not pleasant, I think I lasted five minutes before hitting the showers.

You may think this is the end of my little story of the day but you would be wrong my friends, we go and get changed, my sister and I taking turns to use the change room, and in walks an older lady, when I say old, I mean old enough to be my grandmother and she walks next to me, and strips stark bollock naked. Well she didn't have bollocks that would be a whole new level of wrong in an already plenty wrong situation.

I am a liberal person, but after a tiring workout I really did not need to be seeing old lady nakedness. So I look everywhere but in her direction, willing my sister to hurry up so I can leave. And I peek in the old ladies direction to see she has trousers and shoes on, so I think the coast is clear, but no, I turn around to see old lady boobage, I think I may be suffering from post traumatic stress disorder.

But with that much adventure in one visit, I think I'm going to like this gym malarkey.