I joined a gym over two years ago now.
Do you know the last time I went? September last year.
In other words, I am shelling out thirty three quid a month on a gym membership I no longer utilise.
And, if I'm honest, I never was particularly good at it. I tended to last - oh, a maximum of 20 minutes before giving up and heading for the shower. Also, I tended to end up out for dinner and/or in the pub after my "workout" . . . if you could call it that. What? Why are you looking at me like that? Wasn't I ENTITLED to a reward of some sort???
Even choosing an OUTFIT for the gym tired me out. After all, you never know when you might meet a single, eligible man. And even if you DIDN'T . . . you had to make sure your outfit cancelled out the purple face and sweat after a hectic session on the treadmill, right??? I had to dress carefully to emphasise my good points, and hide my bad points . . . why haven't they invented a full length kaftan for gym use yet, by the way???
On top of that, I had to carefully calculate the time I went. My gym is TINY, it's in the city centre beneath a hotel. The main reason we chose it was because it had a pool and both me and my sister like swimming more than any other exercise. The pool could hold five normal sized people at the best of times. More often than not, there was like TWELVE people in it. Not a good idea at all. How can you swim a straight length without running into someone??? Answer - you couldn't. It's okay for my sister, who dons her goggles, doesn't care about her eye make up and sticks her head under water . . . she can swim under people. I don't want to ruin my make up or have my contacts swim away from me. I had to navigate my way among the masses. Er - no thanks!!!
And it wasn't just the pool which was overflowing . . . with people. If you went at the wrong time, you would find yourself with a treadmill with no view of the tv, or - worse! - no treadmill at all!!! Or the squeaky cross trainer. Or the rowing machine with weights that wouldn't adjust properly which meant I felt like I was trying to haul a couple of small, exceptionally heavy children every time I pulled back.
Nine times out of ten, if I managed to navigate my way through the fashion minefield, and locate a suitable machine, I would somehow manage to pull a muscle on the treadmill or cross trainer. At least, I'm ASSUMING that's what the random ache in my abdomen was that caused me to want to die, and meant I had to stop going to the gym for at least a couple of weeks in order to recover. If it wasn't a pulled muscle, I'd suddenly develop a cold or sore head or something. I'm telling you, someone up there does NOT want me to exercise . . .
I kept my membership up because me and my sis had joint membership, I didn't give it up. Now SHE wants to give her membership up too. Apparently I'm meant to send in a letter to cancel our membership . . .
Are you surprised I haven't got around to it yet???
It just seems like FAR too much effort . . .
Cheer-Me-Up Tuesday . . . I have to recycle, as it's twenty past eleven and I'm wiped out. Here . . .