Gymming it
So, I recently joined a gym, which seems a bit insane, because I'm probably the laziest person I know. I don't do any exercise, I hate sport, unless it involves walking upstairs to climb into bed (make of that what you will). And I always thought the gym was a bit soulless, and a bit naff.
Anyway, a load of my friends are members, and I've been peer pressured into exercising. So I thought I'd educate you on my recent PT session. My aims are to tone my core, bum and thighs.
We took my fat measurements alone in a spa room with candles, which felt incredibly awkward with a man I just met. Anyway, I managed to avoid exposing my knickers. Thank God I invested in those stretchy pants from h&m that can be forced backwards over the knee.
Back to the PT session. I have never felt the presence of my arse so intently in my life before this hour in particular. And it has definitely been there for 23 years, it's been very much there for about 10 years. So I did all these exercise things, he was firing info and technical terms at me, which I don't have the capacity to understand because I'm an RE teacher and I'm too busy memorising the Hail Mary to cope with adding muscle groups into the mix. All I could grasp was that my legs hurt and my arse hurt more.
So we got to this step/platform situation which was super high. So I was told to step on it and lower myself down which was supposed to make my legs look super hot eventually. I did not look hot as I fell to my gluteus maximus (I do know one muscle!) however, because I could not cope with the height of this crazy platform situation. My legs literally just failed me.
Anyway, he then walked me into the weights room. From the outside, there could have been a gay orgy going on in there, men were leaving sweaty and looking flustered, and questionable moans and grunts were emanating from the vicinity. Anyway, I put my assumptions to one side, and strolled in, a bag of pale scrawniness hoping to look casual. I think I pulled it off.
I almost died in there, I had a seat for a little rest between each squat. My thought process was, 'ok, nrghh, don't make an orgasm noise....owwww this hurts....how did I end up here....what if I fart from this effort....?...now I can sit down, ah what a---argh, oh God I bruised my arse when I fell off the too-high platform!' And so on.
It did not help that my PT kept saying things like 'explode', and 'the deeper you go, the better the result'. Maybe it comes from working with teenage boys that makes me suspicious.
We concluded with what felt like simulated childbirth by working on my core.
5 days on, all of the whatever they're called muscles feel ok again. I might go back soon. But getting my tattoo was genuinely less painful.
