Gym: Reasons for & against

The gym.

The 21st century necessity.

The antidote to our hectic, stressful, indulgent lifestyles. The counteractivity to sitting on our arses all day at work.

Ahhh, the gym. Or as I like to think of it, the place I pay an obscene amount of cash to every month, to feel inadequate and get physically punished (but secretly like it.) It's like a socially acceptable, corporate S&M dungeon. With less leather. (Saying that, I was working out recently behind an old man who clearly was sporting a thong underneath his white shorts. I was a bit sick in my mouth. Anyway, I digress.)

Reasons to go:

To get fit, obviously.

To get strong.

To tone up and slim down.

To be able to smoke cigarettes and drink wine on a weekend and at least feel I am doing the tiniest thing to balance this out.

To work off some of the massive stress I accrue every week.


Reasons not to go:

It's really expensive and on top of the hard-earned wedge I pay every month for the privilege of smelling other peoples' sweat; they expect me to pay more for towels and water. Outrageous.

You get sweaty. In front of other people. Mainly City traders.

It really hurts sometimes. Squats aren't my friend.

I have an innate fear of slipping gracelessly backwards off the cross trainer or treadmill. It's inevitable. Apart from possible injury, I am going to look a right twat when this happens.

I go a bit patchy when I get hot. This is also not a good look.

Hyperventilating after about four minutes on the cross trainer also makes you look like an asthmatic geriatric....



This blog is a distraction technique to not be on the cross trainer right now. No'rn Ir'on is introducing me to the Power Plate shortly. I am intrigued. And more than a bit scared.

Right, let's go and do some lunges.