I hate the gym

From the four times (approx) I have been to the gym this year, there has been at least one thing each time to keep putting me off going. These four occasions have only been over the last few weeks because I am cramming. I am going to Bali in 3 weeks time and I want to look like Carmen Electra on the beach, not a blindingly white beluga whale.
So this one time, I went to a yogalaties class. Yoga mixed with Pilates. I had the stereotypical floaty frankincense and patchouli instructor, who could probably bite off her own vagina with her extreme flexibility but not a lot going on between the ears.
The class was great until one of the ladies relaxed so much in the pose that she farted. I understand the ethos behind such classes but that does not make it ok to inflict your poo particles on others.
Needless to say I ditched that class and tried my hand at the cross trainer. Looking like a retarded Olympic walker on hovering stilts is great to get those sweat beads a rollin, but what isn’t great is the fact my gym plays cooking shows on the TV’s. COOKING SHOWS. Nigella, Jamie Oliver, the old angry English mate who pronounces restaurant, Ress-trint. The whole shebang, on repeat. Oh yeah, that’s a great incentive to lose weight and tone up when I’m watching that shit whilst working out. So of course I go home and smash a tub of Nutella whilst shaving inches off a block of chocolate in and around my mouth.
I should have known something was up when I saw the trainers who worked there. Slim toned healthy….far from it sweetheart.
Speaking of the trainers – every single time I am in the changing room, getting my kit off and putting my work out kit on, they are in and out, in and out and leave the god dam door open for all to see. Now, I don’t give a shit about flashing my little pork roast body around in there, it’s a woman’s gym, who cares! But I’m thinking of others, I don’t want the ladies to bring up their protein shakes and carbless bars all over the show if they got a glimpse of me in all my beluga glory.

I think I’ll try the air and dust diet to see me into Bali body 2013, or do most people love a good pork roast?

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