Being an incredibly social person, I can't be left alone for too long without striking up a conversation with someone beside me or wandering off from my group of friends in search of new acquaintances. Although I also really value my alone time, I feel most at home when in the company of many people. Usually this involves unintentionally dominating the discussion with my various impersonations and recounts of amusing stories.
But there is one place that puts a stop to all the unnecessary chatter and catapults me straight into business mode. That one place that can instigate such a drastic transformation is the gym. And my lack of polite chit-chat is not due to an inner arrogance or a feeling of superiority. Hardly the case at all!
You see the gym for me is foreign territory. It's an unexplored world full of men and machines ready to mock my girly run and inability to operate the treadmill. Needless to say, it's not a place I can call home. It's not too bad when I've gone for a few weeks and I have found my groove but that very first day I stick out like a sore thumb and am constantly red in the face, not from pumping iron but from sheer embarrassment.
Yesterday was that day in question. I got off to a shaky start as I tried to forcefully push the little boom gates by the entrance before being politely informed by a smirking staff member that I needed to present my customer card first. As I presented my card, he swiped me through and I made my way through to the change rooms.
Stepping out into the training area with uncertainty and wearing a worried expression, I went over to the treadmill. I couldn't help but secretly survey the time and the speed on the gym junkie's treadmill beside me and pray that they weren't looking at mine. After ten minutes of a light jog, I felt my heart pounding in my chest and although I wasn't working up a sweat I felt as if I was going to faint from exhaustion. I was racing away faster than my legs could carry me and it was only a matter of time before my body gave way and I collapsed. I immediately pressed the stop button so forcefully that the Cathy Freeman wannabe next to me gave me a weird look as I staggered away, defeated and shaking from overexertion.
Next was the weights room. I shuffled over to the machines avoiding eye contact and sussing out the equipment with nervous apprehension. The monster of a man next to me, gave me the once over and continued to grunt louder and louder each time he lifted his weights. Trying to ignore him I sat down on my apparatus but then realised that I had no idea what to do next. He looked at me expectantly and I was left with no choice but to abandon ship, absolutely mortified. I couldn't help but wonder what on earth I was doing in this place; clearly I had no idea what to do or how to do it. It was then that I retired to the stretching area, a safe haven where I could embrace surrender and be glad that it was all over.
My body language throughout this ordeal screamed 'don't look at me, don't observe me and don’t talk to me' and people usually got the picture. I just can't build my confidence until I have also built some muscle and feel like I've earned my place there. It's only when I can bang out forty minutes on the treadmill that I can finally relax a little and start to greet fellow members with a small smile.
So for those of you who encourage your friends to join the gym with the angle that it is the new hot spot for getting flirty with the fitness fanatics; please don't. It's not a nice feeling to be approached when you're not wearing a scrap of makeup and the only thing adorning your body is unforgiving lycra. You're hardly going to allure someone with your sweat patches. The gym is similar to jail. You do your time and then you get out as fast as you can. Mind your own business and no one gets hurt and more importantly no one notices your huge ass which is exactly what has brought you to the gym in the first place!
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