I never, EVER want to go to the gym with my boyfriend

It’s where I sweat profusely because I’m working my t*tties off to try and stay in some kind of aceptable human shape and improve my stamina, so I don’t die walking up the stairs when the lift is out of order in my building.  (Which actually happened after I got back from Christmas).  It’s a biological FACT, I sweat, you sweat, we all sweat together.  We have sweat glands for a reason.  Do not get botox in your armpits, it’s just plain weird and you will die (of not sweating, not botox)*.  I huff and puff and go red and shiny and  I am most certainly not glowing.  That is a word applied only  to women in the gym, that we use to try and pretty up the harsh reality.  No man ever needs to come on that hour-long journey with me.

So, with that in mind, these are the things I’m sure I don’t want to experience at 9am in the gym:

Lovers.  OK, I understand that your love is the greatest love that ever was in all the world (but not according to the late, great Whitney Houston who said,

“I found the greatest love of all
Inside of me
The greatest love of all
Is easy to achieve
Learning to love yourself
It is the greatest love of all.”  And I’m kind of with her.)

Maybe your love keeps you thin, but seriously, are you conjoined somewhere, in some part of your body that does not allow you to be apart for even one millisecond?  You arrive conjoined, you mooch about the gym conjoined and you leave conjoined.  Please, stop holding hands while you cycle together, stop waiting for him to finish on the machine you don’t like to do – find something you do like to do (he’s not going to disappear into thin air if you don’t watch his every move) and stop loitering around my machine loving at each other a lot with all your hearts.  It really puts me off my stride.  Stop it, stop it, stop it.

TheLa Mañana’ special about the menopause.  Apparently I am going to gain SEVEN f*cking, goddam kilos just because I’m getting a bit older.  To be exact, between the ages of 45-57.  I’m going to be 43 39 in two weeks.  This information about the inevitability of the female body made me sad in my heart and I’ve said it before, but I WILL say it again – you men have it easy!!

swooooon

Johnny Depp at Altafit today

Seeing stars and swooning, not because Johnny Depp just walked in to Altafit Diagonal dressed as Captain Jack.  No, because I didn’t consume enough to keep me going that extra 10 minutes.

Falling off the elliptical trainer because you are so self-consciously looking around to see who is watching, flicking your hair around, admiring your perfectly manicured nails and smoothing down your expensive gym kit.  Not me, I was too busy nearly dying on the machine next to the woman who did this.

Giving yourself a nosebleed from exertion.  Work it baby, but don’t burst a blood vessel!   Not me, I was too busy nearly dying on the other side of the room from the man who did this.

Walking around not realising your thong is on full view for all to see through your almost completely transparent leggings.

You can learn a lot about the world when you’re in the gym, most certainly about things you don’t want to experience, ever, and a lot about people.  So, I say; go there, watch people, learn stuff and love (but only a little bit and nowhere near me).

*James Bond films are an excellent educational tool.  Scene in Goldfinger where girl is dead from gold paint?  Yep, you guessed it, because she couldn’t sweat/breath through the paint in her pores. FACT (maybe).

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