Gym Tales

I have recently made the acquaintance of a whole lot of very interesting people. For more than an hour and a half, we sweat, jiggle and grunt together and all the while pretend to ignore each other. Its been about a month and a half since I have been going to a gym (shit! now that I have said it, am I going to jinx it?). And while I strain and pull at the weights until my eyeballs pop and pant and huffnpuff on the treadmill, the most deliciously exotic of people waft or thomp around me (depending on their tonnage).

First there are the trainers, all beefy, taut young men who take their jobs far too seriously and want to look over your shoulder at the scales, when you try and sneak in and weigh yourself all alone, and then go about asking loudly whether you have lost any weight at all... sigh.

Then there are these two ladieslog who come in all trussed up in the fanciest gym gear and shoes and while they slowly perambulate on the treadmill, chatter incessantly with one another.
When I workout, I have very little breath left to gulp into my lungs and I cant help but sneak amazed glances at these two chatterboxes.

And then there is this charming slender young thing who has the stamina of a herd of hippos and three Khalis (do you watch WWF ever?). She wears an expression of utter calm, and her curls remain unruffled as she zips for what seems like hours on the treadmill and lifts all sorts of weights like they were made of candy floss.

There is also this lovely, lovely aunty who is larger than a tent and does all her exercises with the sincerity of a saint. I totally love watching her, she is about 50 years old. Some enthu!

Then there is the prima donna. She must be about 35-40. She wears her dark black hair very short, large, dangly earrings and very, very, very tight gym (usually all black) clothes.
Hmmm... how do I put this? Well, she exercises furiously whenever she comes to the gym, and she reminds me of jello caught in a landslide. Wonder why all the trainers buzz around her with that ingratiating grin huh?

There is another total darrling child. She is the size of a comfy fridge and has a lovely, pretty face. She walks very slowly, cycles slower and and gives a brilliant imitation of a cuddly pachyderm, plodding along. I suppose her silly mom must have forced her into the gym. I think she is perfect and darling the way she is!

There are also what the husband calls 'fruit', these are ripe young gangly men, who may or may not have fuzz growing on their faces. I hope they grow their hot-bod soon, I cant bear to see them strain so! I also watch the Dudahs, these are the super-cool-i-have-been-gymming-since-i
was-four-types. They pick humongous weights like Goliaths, run wihout a bead of sweat for eons, have perfectly toned bodies and make me want to cringe and bury myself under the pedals of the cross ramp.

What's really interesting is that the larger people wear the tightest of clothes and the thin ones wear big, baggy jhola clothes (I wear jhola clothes, the husband's oldest tees, I am thin, I am thin, I am thin... there! now it must be true).
I am having a super time. I am fit, happy, people-watching and surging with endorphins! Its a good life.