19 March 2012


So, I had my first Gym sesh with my new Personal Trainer the other day!

Oh my God. There were issues.

First of all, I am such a fitness philistine, I thought I'd at least look the part, so I dropped £70 at JD Sports coz that's how I roll. I basically stole Marios' look. And let's just say, if there was a Who Wore it Best poll, I think the he would come out on *top*. Well here's hoping.

Also, I decided it would be a great idea to workout at 7.30 in the morning - a full hour before I usually greet the day. So, I have already fucked myself because I'm not a morning person - throw the prospect of exercise into the mix and I am already penning the suicide note.

So, I am running a little late and I find Marios waiting out the front of the Gym. I want to say, "OMG we're already dressing the same, it must be love", but he looks ready for business, so I bite my tongue.

Formalities out the road - like the details of who to contact if I die are handed over *yay* and then we are off.

Marios tells me to head to a treadmill and start warming up. I ease the treadmill to a leisurely stroll. I nervously take a sip of water because it's *important* to keep your fluids up.

Marios comes over and immediately starts thumbing the "up" arrow till it is no longer possible to walk - even though I am doing my best to maintain the act. I can't decide whether to do a fast walk or a slow jog. I look like one of those ridiculous Olympic walkers one red card away from a disqualification.

Marios eyeballs me and tells me to, "run", as he thumbs the arrow some more. I don't think he likes me.

I want to take another drink of water, but it's taking all my concentration to not fall off the back of this conveyor belt of humiliation. Then I had a flash of panic - how do I get off? I can't even stretch my hand out to get water, how do I press stop? Do I jump? Fortunately, Marios' thumb of fortune presses the "down" arrow and the pace gradually slows. I again have to make the awkward transition between running and walking.

Right, it's time to lift the really heavy things now.

We start with lunges whilst carrying 10kg dumbbells or as I'd like to call it, "I'd rather eat my own pooh than ever have to do this exercise again".

3 reps of 10, thanks.

Then he brings over a medicine-y type looking ball with handles. This doesn't look good: I once had a medicine ball thrown at my head when I was in the 4th Grade, so you can imagine my bad feelings towards this apparatus. I have to lift it to my chest and then above my head, repeatedly. By the time I am finished, I want to throw the ball at his head, repeatedly.

The Gym radio is set to an inappropriate blare considering it's morning, but I don't care, my *new* favourite song, Bad Girls by M.I.A is playing.

I fucking loved that song.

I had to do these leg exercises that are basically the *devils work* for the whole song, now whenever I hear, "My chain hit's my chest when I'm bangin' on the dashboard", I want to bludgeon M.I.A with a free weight.

Can I also just say, I'm not allowed to lay in the foetal position during exercise breaks either. Pfft.

Anyway, it's push ups next, but by this point I am in so much pain, I have blocked out any memory. For all I know Marios could have been fisting me with a kettlebell.

It's time to stop and not because the session is over, but because I am over.

I slump onto a bench and breathe like I'm trying to unsuccessfully blow something out. Better not file away that In Case of Emergency number just yet, thanks Marios.

Look, I think what we can all take away from my inaugural Gym sesh is that I am totes unfit. Which is no surprise to me - I will take a bus one stop if I have to.

Marios agrees, "It's going to be hard" were his exact words.

Thanks for the pep talk M.

But really the hardest part was not the workout - it was opening the Gym door - probably because it was security coded, but more so in a figurative sense: I have always felt comfortable in the mediocre. I have never pushed myself physically. When things get too hard, I make a hasty retreat to the safety of the sofa and with remote control in hand, live vicariously through other people's lives.

BTW have you been watching Homeland? Holy shiz.

So, what I am trying to say is it's time to make a change blah blah blah.

Anyway, when I went to leave the Gym, I nearly face planted it down the stairs. My legs were so weak, I looked like I had rickets. I have no idea how the gays have the energy for a bit of soapy gropey after a workout. I can barely hold a conversation, let alone a cock.

So then, when I came home I stopped feeling vomit-y and started feeling AMAZING and HUNGRY. My energy levels were off the chart. I could have gotten out and ran along side the bus. My skin was flush with colour and I was wide awake instead of sleep walking through the day.

I could even go for a bit of soapy gropey!


  1. Super amusing blog. Way to go!

    Was that too rah-rah-rah? Alright, now this is just getting awkward. HOW DO I END THIS COMMENT?!?


  2. Hilarious, I love that you know what rickets is


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