For almost two years now, I have been staring at the gym across the road thinking that one day I might make my way across there and do something about my enormous butt. Three weeks ago, after my first netball practise in over 20 years and the feeling of seeing my life flash before my eyes in a sea of unfitness, I finally walked over and signed up.
My biggest fear when making my way over was showing off my wobbly bits to the extremely pretty boys that frequent the weight room. So I spent the first week, working out the best time to get there when no one was around. I took a copy of the workout classes, got out my diary and sat down and planned a non-wobbly bits visible to pretty boys schedule. The ultimate plan was that in 6 months time I would show up when pretty was enmass and make them all fall madly in love with me and my hot non-wobbly bod.
Absolutely perfect in theory. For the first two and a half weeks it worked like a dream. My sweaty grunts and groans were witnessed purely by my P.T (personal trainer for those of you not in the know) and myself.
Tonight however was a different story.After an uneventful, invisible to the pretty eye workout in the weights room, I headed up to the cardio room for a half hour treadmill session. Five minutes into a confortable stroll, pretty number 1 arrived and climbed onto the cross trainer directly in front of my line of vision. Pretty boy on cross trainer had a cute little butt that I found myself concentrating on as I was exercising. I lost focus for a moment and noticed that pretty number 2 had seated himself next to me on the rower. Very nice arms on pretty rower.
By this time I was trying to walk while holding in my stomach and breathing at the same time and upping the treadmill so I was no longer strolling but briskly walking.
It was then that the pretty threesome arrived and chose to use the treadmill next to me for a competitive sprint. Sweaty testorone competing pretty.After their arrival my buttocks were squeezed so tightly and the treadmill setting so high that i looked like a was running for the ladies after waiting a little too long and I sounded like I was having an asthma attack.
It was then that oh so pretty PT that I had deliberately chosen NOT to have as my personal trainer because the thought of him seeing my wobbly bits in action scared me more than a Stephen King novel, decided to come and have a chat. Him leaning up against my treadmill with that pretty pretty bicep rippling was a little more than this non gym junkie could bare.
I took my wobbly bits and high tailed it out of there.
It was only after I got home that I realised it is probably the hardest workout I have had since I started there three weeks ago. I am thinking I should change my schedule to coincide with the masses instead of hiding from it.
Its time to embrace the pretty.
My biggest fear when making my way over was showing off my wobbly bits to the extremely pretty boys that frequent the weight room. So I spent the first week, working out the best time to get there when no one was around. I took a copy of the workout classes, got out my diary and sat down and planned a non-wobbly bits visible to pretty boys schedule. The ultimate plan was that in 6 months time I would show up when pretty was enmass and make them all fall madly in love with me and my hot non-wobbly bod.
Absolutely perfect in theory. For the first two and a half weeks it worked like a dream. My sweaty grunts and groans were witnessed purely by my P.T (personal trainer for those of you not in the know) and myself.
Tonight however was a different story.After an uneventful, invisible to the pretty eye workout in the weights room, I headed up to the cardio room for a half hour treadmill session. Five minutes into a confortable stroll, pretty number 1 arrived and climbed onto the cross trainer directly in front of my line of vision. Pretty boy on cross trainer had a cute little butt that I found myself concentrating on as I was exercising. I lost focus for a moment and noticed that pretty number 2 had seated himself next to me on the rower. Very nice arms on pretty rower.
By this time I was trying to walk while holding in my stomach and breathing at the same time and upping the treadmill so I was no longer strolling but briskly walking.
It was then that the pretty threesome arrived and chose to use the treadmill next to me for a competitive sprint. Sweaty testorone competing pretty.After their arrival my buttocks were squeezed so tightly and the treadmill setting so high that i looked like a was running for the ladies after waiting a little too long and I sounded like I was having an asthma attack.
It was then that oh so pretty PT that I had deliberately chosen NOT to have as my personal trainer because the thought of him seeing my wobbly bits in action scared me more than a Stephen King novel, decided to come and have a chat. Him leaning up against my treadmill with that pretty pretty bicep rippling was a little more than this non gym junkie could bare.
I took my wobbly bits and high tailed it out of there.
It was only after I got home that I realised it is probably the hardest workout I have had since I started there three weeks ago. I am thinking I should change my schedule to coincide with the masses instead of hiding from it.
Its time to embrace the pretty.
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