I used to be the girl who would walk everywhere, so much that it annoyed friends to come out with me because I never wanted to use any form of transport. "It's a nice walk!" I would always protest because I liked stretching my limbs. I used to take the stairs up to my office on the 7th floor and enjoyed going out for a jog in the evening. I think I could still dance all night long so I would classify myself as a generally "active person".
Things have changed since I've come back home - my expanding waistline seems to be more than happy with the absence of any physical activity and low calorie pre-packed lunches. It wobbles its satisfaction ever time I gorge it with samboosas, cake, kebabs and the array of sweets my mother strategically leaves in front of the television when I come home from work. One day I started walking over to my car to drive somewhere for lunch with coworkers without thinking that it was only a 5 minute walk away - they looked at me like I was crazy lazy and that's when I realised that something bad was happening and it had to stop. This was far worse than not fitting into clothes, which had already started happening at this point: this was sloth, and sloth is a deadly sin (according to Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman, of course). The obvious solution? To join a gym and get "fit" again.
This was easy - there is a large selection of decent gyms to suit your needs, whether you're looking for a women's only gym or somewhere to go and catch up with buddies while you attempt your "fat man's workout" (quoting my brother). I joined somewhere with a decent selection of machines, a nice pool with soothing music to relax in and a variety of funny characters that I cannot avoid sneaking glances at.
There is the Determined Young Man (DYM) who is clearly obsessed with the gym. He works in a bank/auditing firm/investment company of some sort, your typical 9-6 job, in his early to late twenties and goes to the gym 3-4 times a week right after work. He has the Puma t-shirt, the Nike shoes, sometimes even the iPod arm band. And he has "The Face". "The Face" isn't evident all the time; DYM walks around more than he actually works out because he is continuously comparing his work out techniques with others. "The Face" only comes out when he is pumping iron (because they all do, they all pump iron). He usually has another DYM spotting him, either a coworker or an old high school buddy, who prompts him to push/breathe/bench/or whatever it is they do. Shortly after you can hear a loud grunt which may make you look over and spot "The Face". It is a terrifying look of pure pain and agony where DYM starts shaking as he lifts X kilos of weight before the bar plummets back down to the safety holdings and not on his neck as you would probably fear if you were watching this for the first time. "The Face" is followed by a look of exhaustion and some heavy breathing and an encouraging hetro-pat from DYM 2, who is eager for his turn next to show off his strong Y gene. When these boys are working out, they can only imagine Peter Andre's oiled six pack in the Mysterious Girl video and that's what keeps them going.
There is the Old But Still In Good Shape (OBSIGS), who speed walks on a high incline with a look of boredom on his face. He uses all the weight machines and has friendly chats with other old men about going into the steam room to cool off. They go to the gym regularly but don't beat themselves out, they have their towels around their necks and slip out of the gym as quietly as they slip in. They never make an entrance, never speak too loudly and always spend the exact amount of time in their work out - 20 minutes on the treadmill, 10 minutes on the bike, 20 minutes on various machines and 5 minutes on either side stretching. Clockwork that works. They have a routine that their round wives are secretly jealous of.
There are always a few Gym Socialites (GymSoc's) who go to the gym in their Juicy Couture or Y3 gear, stop to say hello and air kiss friends. Females check their waterproof mascara abilities between sessions and males check the gelled hair. Workouts are never strenuous and sessions are never too long because they always have other engagements. Their bodies, however, are always perfect.
And of course, there must be at least one HULK at any given time (also known as I Only Drink Protein Shakes guys, I Work Out 3 Times A Day guys or Look At My Rippling Muscles/I Put Hercules To Shame guys). You cannot miss these spectacles and most other gym-goers openly stare at them with envy. Their bodies are bulky and the have smug faces when they nod their hellos to other regulars "Yup, I wasn't born with this body, I worked for it…" Imagine something superhero-like: Each muscle is properly defined and their arms seem to spread out from their bodies because they're just so big. They saunter in, rarely ever do any substantial cardio and go straight to the weights to lift what seems to be the weight of a small car. They stare at themselves in the mirror a lot and scope out their competition. They are usually the most talkative people in the gym because they always want to give you tips and watch you fail in whatever task they've given you to do. These are the guys with the closest thing to Peter Andre's oiled six pack in the Mysterious Girl video.
As for me, I fall in the HAPOTT category (Huffing And Puffing On The Treadmill). HAPPOTT's can easily be spotted as the person with the red and exhausted look on her face. You can probably hear her terrible breathing from across the gym and pity her. She refills her water bottle at least half a dozen times and watches the cooking channel during her whole session. She tries to go as regularly as she can, she is friendly to the people who work there but still tries to avoid old acquaintances who give her sympathetic encouragement for trying to keep fit. She is also the one who you will spot at the Dairy Queen drive-thru with a guilty look on her face while she orders sinnly onion rings with extra barbecue sauce. Sympathise with her, at least she tries.
