tubby biatch no.1
exercise. fuck it. it would be great to be able to say that. imagine a life where you could eat whatever you like and sit on your arse doing nothing and come out all ok in the end. ahh, a man can dream.
i've just joined a new gym as by joining gym/swapping membership i feel like i'm doing something positive for myself. i could not even go and i'd still feel like i'm ahead. if it weren't for the god-damned guilt riding me every waking (and sleeping) moment i'd do just that. i'm going to write a small account of the experiences there under this exciting title 'tubby biatch'.
issue one: the joining
it starts with an overly-healthy looking mid 20 year old personal-trainer at the local shopping mall talking about a 'good deal'. it's a fucking obvious and weak ploy but spot the dipshit who lets it roll around the brain-space long enough for it to stick. a phonecall later and i'm booked for an introductory sales-pitch.
i get there and it looks good. it's packed with the usual range of gym goers. it starts with the insecure, overweight people looking to break free from a lifetime of oppression forced mainly on them by themselves. at the other end of the spectrum, the over-muscled, fake tanned demi-gods who must also suffer a healthy dose of insecurity, why else are there so many mirrors in the joint. somewhere in the middle shuffles the average joe's like myself. neither particularly fat nor muscled. the desk-jockey with a penchant for shite-food and no exercise. i've always felt insecure at busy gyms. everyone else seems elevated above you through 'wellness' and looking great in lycra. funnily enough reaching 31 and being in a good relationship has kind of turned down the volume of the voices in my head screaming my inadequacies. sure everyone looks great but they also look a million years younger so fuck it. my irrelevance has become a strength. besides anyone looking to stare me down and mark-their territory is filed under 'fucking sad wanker'. i get some people's interest and hobby is their physique, just don't think i give a shite about the same things (i could take 'em at xbox anyway...).
we sit and go through the list. yes i want to get fit. yes i have motivational problems. no, i don't want to pay some freak to bury himself in my arse so i can hear a motivational speech 24 hours a day. no, i never had a good figure so i can't surround myself with photo's of my so-called 'good times' as motivation. arrgghh. all this so they can up-sell the joining 'package'. you can't ask for a price 'cause it's all 'tailor-made'. what bullshit. it felt like when i bought my latest car. i couldn't sign any paperwork until i'd been filled in by the after-market expert offering who the fuck knows. it feels like it never ends.
i talk a bit of bullshit, dangle the fact that my girlfiend is thinking of joining and can i get a package-deal? it works and i get a joining fee of $120. if i'd not tried it on i'd have paid close to $300. just to fucking join. the monthly's are $60 and they would have been $80. i sign i pay and i'm out on the street.
then the god-damned phonecalls start. was i happy with the joining experience? what, apart from the financial raping and needing gumboots for the bullshit? i answer 'yep, great'. 'well, great' i hear, 'we'll call you in a decade to drag more cash outta you'. i'm not sure if i heard the last bit but it sounded like that.
i have to say, the guy i delt with was excellent. he made no show to hide the fact that he thought all the extra 'bonuses' were shite. he was one of those trainers that you think 'shouldn't he be bigger?' but is really healthy and fit. it's the normal few like him that hold me to going. the guy who called following was a tad freaky and i'm guessing had to use a handsfree as his massive arm doesn't allow his hand to get a foot near his own head so at least it's all balancing out. next mission is to actually get there. oh boy, the fun.
i've just joined a new gym as by joining gym/swapping membership i feel like i'm doing something positive for myself. i could not even go and i'd still feel like i'm ahead. if it weren't for the god-damned guilt riding me every waking (and sleeping) moment i'd do just that. i'm going to write a small account of the experiences there under this exciting title 'tubby biatch'.
issue one: the joining
it starts with an overly-healthy looking mid 20 year old personal-trainer at the local shopping mall talking about a 'good deal'. it's a fucking obvious and weak ploy but spot the dipshit who lets it roll around the brain-space long enough for it to stick. a phonecall later and i'm booked for an introductory sales-pitch.
i get there and it looks good. it's packed with the usual range of gym goers. it starts with the insecure, overweight people looking to break free from a lifetime of oppression forced mainly on them by themselves. at the other end of the spectrum, the over-muscled, fake tanned demi-gods who must also suffer a healthy dose of insecurity, why else are there so many mirrors in the joint. somewhere in the middle shuffles the average joe's like myself. neither particularly fat nor muscled. the desk-jockey with a penchant for shite-food and no exercise. i've always felt insecure at busy gyms. everyone else seems elevated above you through 'wellness' and looking great in lycra. funnily enough reaching 31 and being in a good relationship has kind of turned down the volume of the voices in my head screaming my inadequacies. sure everyone looks great but they also look a million years younger so fuck it. my irrelevance has become a strength. besides anyone looking to stare me down and mark-their territory is filed under 'fucking sad wanker'. i get some people's interest and hobby is their physique, just don't think i give a shite about the same things (i could take 'em at xbox anyway...).
we sit and go through the list. yes i want to get fit. yes i have motivational problems. no, i don't want to pay some freak to bury himself in my arse so i can hear a motivational speech 24 hours a day. no, i never had a good figure so i can't surround myself with photo's of my so-called 'good times' as motivation. arrgghh. all this so they can up-sell the joining 'package'. you can't ask for a price 'cause it's all 'tailor-made'. what bullshit. it felt like when i bought my latest car. i couldn't sign any paperwork until i'd been filled in by the after-market expert offering who the fuck knows. it feels like it never ends.
i talk a bit of bullshit, dangle the fact that my girlfiend is thinking of joining and can i get a package-deal? it works and i get a joining fee of $120. if i'd not tried it on i'd have paid close to $300. just to fucking join. the monthly's are $60 and they would have been $80. i sign i pay and i'm out on the street.
then the god-damned phonecalls start. was i happy with the joining experience? what, apart from the financial raping and needing gumboots for the bullshit? i answer 'yep, great'. 'well, great' i hear, 'we'll call you in a decade to drag more cash outta you'. i'm not sure if i heard the last bit but it sounded like that.
i have to say, the guy i delt with was excellent. he made no show to hide the fact that he thought all the extra 'bonuses' were shite. he was one of those trainers that you think 'shouldn't he be bigger?' but is really healthy and fit. it's the normal few like him that hold me to going. the guy who called following was a tad freaky and i'm guessing had to use a handsfree as his massive arm doesn't allow his hand to get a foot near his own head so at least it's all balancing out. next mission is to actually get there. oh boy, the fun.
posted by brent c. airey at 9:32 AM
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