The (Fitness) Cult of Celebrity

The (Fitness) Cult of Celebrity

So you may be thinking that there really is very little that would be comparable between The British Soap Awards and a Les Mills instructor workshop. In this, my friends, you would be sadly mistaken. When you start to consider the lashings of fake tan and the waxed shiny legs, it really becomes quite difficult to distinguish between the two.

And that’s just the men.

I attended the Bristol workshop for the Les Mills new releases last weekend. For the uninitiated, this is when instructors get to try out all the new routines that we will be inflicting upon our members for the next 3 months. My friend, who had never been to a workshop before, commented, ‘I feel a bit like I’m entering a cult’ as we entered the room. There is a sense of cult-like behaviour: from everyone wearing the same body combat shorts, to the identical Maori tattoos and devotion to one cause, there is something very single minded about the energy in the room. Which I do quite like – obviously I subscribe to ‘the cause’ too – but I am also aware of the slight weirdness of the situation. I couldn’t help thinking what my sarcastic colleagues at the BBC would say if they could see 500 instructors standing in a darkened room with disco lights spinning, all shouting ‘kiah!’ as they kick an imaginary opponent (or the annoying keeno wearing a crop top over her boob job who’s just pushed her way to stand one millimetre in front of you).

What is surprising, is the various body shapes and personality types you encounter at the workshops. You might think you would be surrounded by the ‘body beautiful’ – an intimidating array of strong fit bodies. Well, there definitely are some amazingly toned people at these events, but there are also a scary number of those who, quite frankly, don’t look like they even know where the gym is. And these are all instructors, people. Just like The Soap Awards, the competitive energy in the room is overwhelming. I don’t think I’ve felt so scrutinised and judged since I lived in Leeds and used to go the gay bar Fibre, which was full of mirrors – to make opining on others even more accessible. Even being surveyed by a table of pursed lip Queens doesn’t come close to the intimidation factor of stepping into a room of instructors to compare quad size.

Another similarity to the Soaps is the sense of celebrity in the room i.e. the presenters. Even if you’ve not met them before, you will recognise the trainers from other workshops, or the training DVD’s. Just like at the Soaps, you end up trying to pretend not to be in awe of the famous person standing next to you in the toilets. Is it wrong that I was far more excited about washing my hands next to Susan Renata than I ever was walking past Ken Barlow on the cobbles? The reverence given to the presenters is definitely tantamount to the red carpet at the Soaps. They might not be walking to a television studio surrounded by screaming fans, but we’re all going to cheer everything they say on stage. Even when, in the case of a body pump instructor, it’s actually quite offensive. One presenter from New Zealand stood on stage and commented, ‘I was last in the UK in 1996, launching body pump, and there were a lot of soft flabby bodies out there (instructors). I’d just like to say, you’re all looking a lot better, good job’ Weirdly, everyone cheered. Er, he’s insulting us guys! It might be an insult disguised as a compliment, but it’s still fairly mean, isn’t it?!

The last thing I’d like to comment on is how you can tell, just by looking at people, what class they teach. Yes yes, most instructors teach a lot of different programmes, but they can also sense what class in particular they are affiliated to. All the aggressive, slightly angry looking girls teach body combat. The happy people with ridiculously toned legs teach body attack. Anyone eating seeds/ organic yoghurt definitely teaches balance, and you can spot the body pump men by the slightly mechanical way they move. Anyone wearing leggings teaches jam.

At least, you hope they do.

A friend of mine, who is not an instructor *DISCLAIMER* recently personified all the programmes for me in the following way:

Body Pump – Raoul Moat. This might sound slightly extreme, but she said she feels like it is a mean, threatening programme, who is going to shoot you if you don’t lift the weight it says.

Body Attack – the jock in the changing room who is thwacking you with a wet towel, daring you to go harder and more energetic.

Body Combat – Beyonce. Because it’s on your side.

That was as far as we got. Watch this space for balance and vive.

Overheard at the BBC

Office Gay: ‘You’re always moody’

Me: ‘It’s just because I’m on’

OG: ‘That’s such a horrible expression. ‘On’. ‘

Me: ‘What would you prefer me to say? Surfing the crimson wave? Got the painters and decorators in?’

OG: ‘How about evacuating copious amounts of blood from your c***?’

Eurgh.