Part I
12 weeks ago, at work, a good friend said to me, “Never start a sentence with a number”. My mind fashioned this as peculiar. And then she said, “You shouldn’t start sentences with and either”. Jesus Christ Kate why do I talk to you. Then she finally said, “Shanga, join a gym... join a gym or you will die”. Seemingly harsh but very necessary words for my adorable ears to hear and my munted mind to process. I finished consuming my Double Quarter Pounder with extra awful, digested said culinary atrocity with great shame and loneliness and continued to entertain my mildly annoying 8 pint hangover with hilarious notions of actually doing some work.
The next Monday, in a fit of delirious lunacy, I went to Fitness First next to work. Challenge #1: It’s on the second floor with no elevator or human trebuchet. INCONVENIENT. I want to get fit, not trek to fuckin’ Mordor. I reached reception at the seemingly stratospheric summit and took a seat for about 10 minutes. There wasn’t a queue. I just needed time to get my breath back. In fact the perky receptionist was looking at me the entire time, perfecting her ability to shrug unapprovingly using just her eyebrows. She has a gift, a worthless worthless gift.
All of a sudden, a scatter bomb exploded with shrapnel flying at me in the form of energetic white toothed personal trainers. The girls walked like men and the men walked like girls and all of them had the unexpected flamboyancy of a ladyboy Halloween party, (which reminds me, check my credit card statement from my Thai holiday then make appointment with Dr Russell accordingly).
I was finally cornered by the Alpha-fit-bastard-I-hate-you-male. I’m not sure exactly what transpired next but shortly thereafter I became alert and aware on the sidewalk with a 12 month membership and weekly personal training sessions to boot. None of this concerned me all that much. I was just thankful I hadn’t woken up in police lock up or in her bed. Any day that begins with neither of those things is going to be a fuckin’ pearler! The point being, I was now, officially, a gym rat for the first time in my life.
Part II next week – The Attack of the Kat
