Friday, 29 July 2011


The other day I joined the gym. After vowing that 'the world was my gym' and that the exercise industry is just a money making machine this was a move that surprised even myself. When I got in through the doors and smelt the unmistakable hum of sweat and desperation I felt determined to penetrate this world of sleek bodies and pumping iron. But first, a few questions:
Why do gyms have so many mirrors? I realise fully that my coordination and fitness are way below par. It is questionable as to why the walls need to constantly remind me of this. 
Why do men take photographs of themselves lifting weights? What do they do with these photographs after? Do they keep the ones of themselves or the ones of their friends? Are weight lifters in love with themselves or each other?
Why am I the only person that turns a bright shade of vermilion after only thirty minutes?
Who comes up with these mental exercise classes: Kettlercise, Bodypump?
Should I take steroids just for funsies?
And lastly, will I ever look like this woman?

I will don my most appealing detective gym wear and get back to you on that one.