This is one of his blogs that he started on facebook, felt it should be aired to the general public. I feel it is particularly relevant as I have started going to the gym quite regularly due to my insane weight gain recently. (And no mum... I am not pregnant.)
Please enjoy... I hope it makes you giggle as much as it did me. (I think you will find that I lol'd.)
Blog #3 - Why I Won't Exercise
I feel I should be exercising more. It’s just that I haven’t had the time with all my school work. (It’s a rubbish excuse, and untrue, but I simply can’t be bothered.) The issue here is my gym. I haven’t been in attendance for about three months. Why? Because they’ve stopped putting on the muffins. I know this may seem silly considering eating a muffin after an intensive work-out is counter-productive, but I don’t care. They used to be on show in the café. Now, that has been replaced by a bran bar stand.
Bran Bars. Eugh.
Sorry, it’s just Bran is bad enough as it is. Let alone in bar form. It’s like the food a rabbit eats when it’s feeling a bit rebellious. Pointless. You see, whenever I finish working out my brain turns all irrational. I feel that when I eat the muffin after the work out, I’ve earned it:
“With all that exercise I’ve just done, I earned that muffin. All that weight lost from that strenuous run (or in my case, walk) earns at least a cookie!”
No. In fact I put ON weight from the muffin as I’ve only lost twenty grams worth of weight off my body. In fact, I go to the gym and leave a bit heavier. Oh. Dear.
But this is not the real reason as to why I’m scared of the gym. The real reason is that the receptionist is REALLY scary. She’s like a female version of King Kong. One of those people who looks like they’re about to lose it and go mental at any second. One time, I asked for a spare towel for the shower. The look she gave me probably justified a comment like “I eat baby squirrels” or “I only visit the donkey sanctuary FIVE times a week, not SIX! I’m not a weirdo”, not “May I have some more towels please”. She’s like a Volcano. Don’t assume she won’t erupt. She could. At. Any. Second.
Yet, even if there was a nice receptionist and a plethora of baked goods to choose from, I still wouldn’t go. Why? Because I’m just not pretty enough. The crowd that head there are fitness fanatics, with perfect figures and expensive cars. There I am, in the middle of it all, looking like a disgruntled guy lost after walking off the set of “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE – worst face related disasters ever”. One man in the changing room even sighed when I stood next to him. He sighed. The very sight of me stressed him out enough to verbally express it. This was post-workout, I understand, and my face is hardly a beautiful thing to behold, but to sigh? That’s when you really know you’ve hit rock bottom. When my face makes someone sigh.
But to top it all off, it has to be their music selection. Seriously, “2005 called! They want their music back”. It’s a very surreal to be showering in the changing rooms to “Hollaback Girl” by Gwen Stefani or “Switch” by Will Smith. Both good songs, I admit, and I did bust a few moves in the shower (don’t worry, they’re not communal), but even so, I think for the money we pay to be members they could at least invest to some music released after the days of B Witched, Top Of The Pops and Sabrina The Teenage Witch.
However, even if I did decide to leave the gym, I still wouldn't really exercise. Why? School Work.
Bran Bars. Eugh.
Sorry, it’s just Bran is bad enough as it is. Let alone in bar form. It’s like the food a rabbit eats when it’s feeling a bit rebellious. Pointless. You see, whenever I finish working out my brain turns all irrational. I feel that when I eat the muffin after the work out, I’ve earned it:
“With all that exercise I’ve just done, I earned that muffin. All that weight lost from that strenuous run (or in my case, walk) earns at least a cookie!”
No. In fact I put ON weight from the muffin as I’ve only lost twenty grams worth of weight off my body. In fact, I go to the gym and leave a bit heavier. Oh. Dear.
But this is not the real reason as to why I’m scared of the gym. The real reason is that the receptionist is REALLY scary. She’s like a female version of King Kong. One of those people who looks like they’re about to lose it and go mental at any second. One time, I asked for a spare towel for the shower. The look she gave me probably justified a comment like “I eat baby squirrels” or “I only visit the donkey sanctuary FIVE times a week, not SIX! I’m not a weirdo”, not “May I have some more towels please”. She’s like a Volcano. Don’t assume she won’t erupt. She could. At. Any. Second.
Yet, even if there was a nice receptionist and a plethora of baked goods to choose from, I still wouldn’t go. Why? Because I’m just not pretty enough. The crowd that head there are fitness fanatics, with perfect figures and expensive cars. There I am, in the middle of it all, looking like a disgruntled guy lost after walking off the set of “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE – worst face related disasters ever”. One man in the changing room even sighed when I stood next to him. He sighed. The very sight of me stressed him out enough to verbally express it. This was post-workout, I understand, and my face is hardly a beautiful thing to behold, but to sigh? That’s when you really know you’ve hit rock bottom. When my face makes someone sigh.
But to top it all off, it has to be their music selection. Seriously, “2005 called! They want their music back”. It’s a very surreal to be showering in the changing rooms to “Hollaback Girl” by Gwen Stefani or “Switch” by Will Smith. Both good songs, I admit, and I did bust a few moves in the shower (don’t worry, they’re not communal), but even so, I think for the money we pay to be members they could at least invest to some music released after the days of B Witched, Top Of The Pops and Sabrina The Teenage Witch.
However, even if I did decide to leave the gym, I still wouldn't really exercise. Why? School Work.
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