My Gym Diary

I celebrated my day at home by finally visiting the gym. My gym diary actually starts six..or eight..or maybe ten months ago.

I walked in to this room full of contraptions and found only one which looked familiar—the weighing machine. Looking just as diligent as all other inhabitants of that planet full of huffing-aliens, sweating profusely on swooshing machines, I too clambered on to this one.

The numbers proved I just did not belong and I walked out, promising to visit every day, starting next week.

Some weeks (just about 10 or 12 of them) later, I walked in more resolutely, did a few rounds on the weighing machine and told the trainer I was ready to sign on—from next month (well it was only 2 weeks away).

A few more weeks later-I asked the trainer if I could start from the beginning of the next month. (See-I am persistent.)

“Ma’am, we’ll start your month from the day you join. (Gosh-after Julius Ceasar and Augustus, now the calendar moves around for ME!!) You can start today.”
“Oh, well, but…My kids will be home soon (Today is too soon, Come on..I am a busy mother). I’ll start on Monday.”

After a lot of Mondays, the trainer assures me: “Ma’am, please try the program for a week or two. You can pay after you decide to continue” (Someone more persistent than me?)

OK. Done.

I booked the slot for the next day and left, determined not to let him down again. (Yes, I was feeling duty-bound to join)

At the appointed hour, I was rushing Elena to the hospital to get her chin stitched up.

I didn’t get the time to try out that one familiar machine for months. Today, I finally went and told him I was ready to take the plunge.

And I felt so let down when he made me do only a few exercises (quite like the disgusting P.T. in school) and said I wouldn’t be ready to take a flight on those swashbuckling spaceships for atleast a week.

I am not sure I want to go back tomorrow.