Fagged out by my gym excursion

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1 September 2017 7:40AM

I hope everyone had a crazy and eventful bank holiday weekend.

You must all be aware that the last bank holiday passing marks the countdown to Christmas.

So now we all put our partying on a hiatus and frantically try to lose as much weight and save up as much cash as we can in preparation for the carnage of the holiday season.

I for one would like to look a bit more like a Barbie doll and less like a Cabbage Patch Kid so I’ve already made plans to (hopefully) make that happen.

Believe it or not I’ve joined a gym. I even set aside the gym fees each month through careful budgeting. The kids will just have to miss out on a hot meal at school and take in a few packets of Dairylea Dunkers.

I was slightly intimidated by the idea of going to the gym at first. I’d convinced myself it was going to be full of supermodels, hunky, muscular dudes and Martini-sipping housewives going super slow on the cross trainers so they didn’t sweat off their make-up. How wrong I was.

I was actually quite happy to see it was frequented by ‘normal’ people. You know, folk working out in Sports Direct’s finest with a normal BMI?

The atmosphere was pretty chilled and there weren’t any surgically enhanced ladies or professional athletes in sight.

I eyed up the machines – modern day torture devices emblazoned with safety certificates. It was at that point I knew I should have paid attention during my induction, but I was too busy breathing in and flexing when any male aged 25-40 walked past.

I stood and watched everyone else seemingly at one with their electrical trainers and thought I’d just copy their technique.

To get a better look I pulled out a yoga mat so I could warm-up/spy. I opted for a few sit-ups – this would give me a chance to do a full-on scan of the area.

I wish someone had told me how much a sit-up hurts. My chubby belly couldn’t manage one. I got a few odd stares as I did the best I could do – just putting my hands behind my head and nodding frantically. Man I had a sore neck when I was done.

As someone whose idea of exercise is working my bingo wings by lifting a cigarette up to her mouth, I knew I had to start small. I watched a woman pulling some weights on a pulley so that seemed like a good place to start. I pulled one of what looked like a stirrup on a horse and it felt heavy but not too bad, about as heavy as an Aldi bag with two lots of Galahad in.

I did a few reps on my right arm (check me out using the gym lingo!) then reached for the left.

That was a LOT heavier and soon I looked like I’d been crucified at the gym, my arms pulled across both sides of the room.

I couldn’t pull my arms right in front of me seeing as though I’m just marginally stronger than a toddler so I just swung around on the machine, kicking my feet out to look like I was doing some sort of weight/capoeira.

Yes people laughed and yes I watched my hot ex-boyfriend watching me, clearly disturbed. But I’m happy to report my regime is working. I’ve lost no weight… but I CAN now lift a cigarette in each hand!

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