The other night after a bit of coaxing with offers of treats The Canza got me down to the gym.
I had never been to a gym before, always snorted it off as the weakling's excuse for REAL EXERCISE (which- in my book- includes shearing sheep, wrestling crocs and a good old fashioned bar fight).
I was half expecting to see people frolicking around in purple spandex, leg warmers and fluro headbands as I walked up towards the double doors of the huge two-story complex, but instead was met with something far scarier- rich people!!!!!
While I'm not macaroni-and-cheese-from-the-box-for-Christmas-lunch-poor, I still get freaked out a bit by rich people, knowing that at any sudden minute when I get the urge to yell 'Stacks On!!' and throw the closest victim in the vicinity to the floor the rich people will judge me mercilessly, so I have to place a temporary curb on my Ballsiness for a while. Which doesn't agree with my excessive energy levels.
The guy behind the desk was buff and a true gym junkie and he looked at me in the 'can you please leave without a fuss' way, before The Canza stepped forward with a free-pass for me and as i maneuvered myself through the weird-arse-silver-pole-thingys I wanted to stick out my tongue all primary school and say 'suck on that bitch!'. But alas, I didn't.
As I gingerly sauntered through my first glimpse of a gym I gaped wide mouthed at the fancy equipment and tv screens as perfectly tanned, buffed bodies lifted, jogged, pushed and puffed daintily around me. We walked up to to the treadmills that looked more like spaceships with the ability to launch us onto an inter-galactic mission than contraptions used for burning all those guilty *schoolgirl giggle* (sarcasm) calories.
I stepped aboard like an astronaut onto the moon, checking what was behind me to catch my fall if I happened to fly from the mechanical wonder's clutches while attempting to bounce my blubber around in the chicken-dance fashion; a shiny, hard guy doing sit-ups behind me met my gaze and I made the mental note that I didn't want to fall and end up in that pool of bodily fluid.
The Canza instructed me onto how to use the treadmill-ship and as it slowly whirled into life I clutched desperately at the handrail with "It's moving!", getting looks from various gymies.
The Canza laughed "It's meant to do that you dickhead".
I tentatively stepped on and began to slowly move...... watching my feet as the black rubber ran beneath them, continuing to let out little cries of "ahh! ehh!". But then my eyes went up to the tv screens, "Ohh MASH is on!" and distracted I fell into a steady tread and an agreement with the tread-ship.
I slowly increased the speed, still glancing beneath my feet often to make sure they were still there when I noticed a very fit girl running on the tread-ship beside me. I peeked over at her speed and gaped- 8 KPH! Bitch! Game on!!
I increased my speed. Nothing gets me moving like competition.
We finished up there and made our way upstairs to the weights room where a trainer lent over two women on the floor as they did push-ups.
I gasped and starting snickering.
The Canza looked at me suspiciously, "What?"
"That trainer has a huge erection!!"
She laughed, "Perv".
"I didn't look on purpose! It just jumped out at me!" I protested.
"Yeah, they'll do that." She grinned slyly.
Pushing and pulling at weights for a few minutes saw us with sore muscles in no time with sweat running down into various crevices as we were reminded of other practises that have the same affects on our bodies. Loud, boyish laughing saw the serious gymies giving us dirty looks as they tried to run off that 'naughty, naughty chocolate bar from last week', so we moved on to a different room.
The last room held all these bizarre, metal contraptions that I poked and prodded at trying to figure out what they were, half expecting them to come to life and snarl at me to fuck off.
One object I sat on and accidentally slammed it into the wall, leaving a hole that made The Canza splutter with laughter so violent she dropped from this weird-bird-like-perch where she was doing press-ups onto the floor in a fit.
"Quick, run before someone notices!!" and we scampered downstairs to the sauna, nearly smacking right into big hairy men wearing only budgie smugglers as they roamed between sauna and spa and back again in what seemed like just for our benefit.
In he car on the way home I found a packet of lollies and gorged on them without a lick of guilt, "I deserve these", I told no one in particular.
And that was my first expedition to the gym. Fuck exercise is easy that way, and here I've been running my guts out on a soccer field in the freezing rain for years like a sucker!