Right, so how come working in a gym has caused me to gain 5 lbs? Huh? HUH? What in the name of Ferris Bueller (Bueller?) is up with that? As my South African colleague would say, 'that's crazy as nuts, ay'.
(I think it was 'crazy' as nuts. It might have been 'true as nuts'. There was something to do with nuts. Whatever he said was about as relevant as nuts, so I feel at liberty to pretty much freestyle that particular gem).
Anyway, yes, I am fatter despite apparently moving around more and being exposed to New Zealand's fittest and most beautiful on a daily basis. And I am not happy about it. I had assumed that one of the benefits of working in a gym would be that you would exercise more. Surely it's like working in hospitality or retail, right? When I worked in a nightclub, I had about 6 months of being a little alcoholic (and when I say alcoholic, I mean that I didn't pass out after my first pinot spritzer). During my career in catering, I developed a taste for having balsamic glaze drizzled artistically around the edge of my plate, irrespective of what I was eating. And then there was the summer I worked in a Latin American restaurant and insisted in having Tabasco sauce with EVERYTHING. (This particular fad ended one unhappy lunchtime when I drowned my french fries in said sauce, and ended up bawling whilst trying to down a pint of milk).
One of the truisms of working in any industry is the irrational hatred you develop for people who make your job harder. When I worked in TV and produced the post-production scripts for subtitles, I began to really REALLY hate all the actors who mumbled/ had regional accents (apart from Birmingham)/ changed their lines. You might be the nicest actor in the world, but if you're not saying what's down in the script, you are not my friend. When I worked in retail, I loathed anyone who didn't hang their clothes back up properly on the hangers or, god forbid, upset my T-Shirt stacks in Ted Baker. (We used to have a little table with a T-Shirt folding metal square. Even writing about it now brings back nightmarish memories of hours, I tell you, HOURS, spent perfecting those little pink and white t shirts, only for some idiot in a Ralph Lauren shirt to come along and destroy my 90/90 patterns. Dark times indeed). Anyway, I have discovered that my nemesis on the gym floor is Men Who Don't Return Weights. This particular breed of male thinks nothing of stacking 100kg on either side of the leg press, and then leaving it for some poor unfortunate gym instructor (ME) to try and pull off at the end of the day. I know who these members are, and they are on the Shortty Hit List.
On the plus side it does make me feel less guilty if I miss a body pump class.
My last gymnasium anecdote is this: we all wear name badges with an 'inspirational sporting quote' emblazoned beneath our name. Gutted for anyone who picked Lance Armstrong before June 2012. Anyway, I picked a quote from Joe Namath, before realising like I pretty much sound like I'm propositioning all our members for sex:
"If you aren't going all the way, why go at all?"
At least that explains why I've been offered so many tours of Auckland from 'friendly' members.
Now please nobody panic, but I have bought a car. Which I drive, on a daily basis. Luckily there is pretty much just one straight road from the flat to the gym, so minimal chances of getting lost/ running over pigeons (I have form)/ driving in completely the wrong lane. I know what you're thinking: this is the girl who took NINE attempts to pass her driving test, and probably could have bought a house by now with all the money she spend on lessons and tests. But let's focus on the positive here people: I did eventually pass my test, and so far nobody is dead because of me. (As far as records show). When I told the Office Princess on skype that I was driving in New Zealand she looked, quite frankly, horrified, and asked in an incredulous tone of voice 'Do they drive on the other side of the road there?' Oh ye of little faith. To quote one of the greats - Cher in Clueless - 'I drive really good'. Although this does bring back vivid memories of my friend Adrian, whose favourite greeting to me was another classic Clueless moment:
'What do you know? You're a Virgin Who Can't Drive'.
Overheard at the Gym
GYM INSTRUCTOR: Someone once threw up right in that water fountain there.
ME: Really? Ewwww. But that doesn't happen a lot, right?
GYM INSTRUCTOR: (OBVIOUSLY) Of course. People vomit here all the time. They go hard. It's this gym.
I'm scared....
Sunday, 25 November 2012
Saturday, 3 November 2012
Educating Sarah
So I've been in Auckland for eleven days, and already experienced being soaked through to the skin by a torrential rainfall. Twice. In the same day. Now I realise that, in the context of Hurricane Sandy, amid the stories of thousands of desperate New Yorkers who have had the sides of their apartments blown off and are panic buying bottled water (according to the NZ Herald), my plight may seem rather slight. But, seeing as one of the main attractions of moving to New Zealand was the weather, I feel that I am entitled to feeling somewhat cheated. Especially since, as my flatmate informed me cheerfully upon my dripping wet entrance earlier today, 'it rains 5 times more in Auckland than in Birmingham'. Er, I don't recall that Fact Of No Small Importance being mentioned by the Lonely Planet?
On a separate note, please everyone note my ryhming couplet: plight/ slight. I knew that English Literature degree would come good some day. (2:1 Hons. I know).
Since this is looking like an educational entry, I thought I would share with you What I Have Learned Since October 22nd, 2012. Quite a catchy title, you'll agree?
1. Don't leave packing til the afternoon of your flight. You will forget lots of Useful Things. Like the year's supply of contact lenses you ordered 3 months ago, congratulating yourself at the time on your pre-planning. And promptly left on your bedroom floor.
2. If you do leave packing to the eleventh hour, do not then arrange to have your extra stuff shipped 24 hours later from the UK. You will recall mid-flight the 101 things you forgot to sort (contact lenses, silver princess shoes - not the ones with Soap Awards spunk on them FYI - phone charger etc.) It is by that time way too late to call your mother to ask her to add these essential items in, because your extra bag is already en route to NZ. You will feel like crying, and hate everyone who told you to start packing 2 weeks ago. Those self-righteous idiots. Who were right.
3. Taking a 30 hour flight is not unlike running a marathon - at some point, I'd say about 18 hours in (miles), you Hit The Wall. You no longer know who you are, where you're going, nor do you care. You have watched every single episode of Modern Family on the in-flight entertainment, and happily reminisced to the UK top 40 hits from 1999 (Mambo Number 5). Now you just want to kill yourself. And everyone else in the immediate 10m range.
4. Nobody here says G'Day.
5. Even if you say it to them first.
6. Every other person is from the UK. Don't expect to feel special. You're sooooooooo not. In fact, I'd say you're in the majority.
7. The bus drivers are way friendlier here than in Birmingham. Although they do have a somewhat dry sense of humour. One driver told me the other day in a very serious tone of voice, 'Next time you get on the bus with a coffee...' - I prepare to be scolded - 'you bring two: one for the driver'. Can you imagine a bus driver in Nechelles daying that? Do bus drivers even venture into Nechelles?!
8. Remember you're not working at the BBC anymore. It's no longer OK to explain to someone that your favourite expression for the menstrual period is evacuating copious amounts of blood from your c***. (Cue shocked Australian Gym Instructor: "I wasn't expecting the See You Next Tuesday...")
9. Don't use a Westpac ATM when you only have one debit card available to use, It may get swallowed by the machine, and you will find yourself stranded in the bank at 17:41 along with a distraught Russian homestay student and elderly Australian on her way to the opera, arguing with a total jobsworth of a Kiwi employee. True story.
10. There really are are a lot of sheep.
On the plus side nobody believes I'm from Birmingham, due to lack of accent. Yam alright our kid...
On a separate note, please everyone note my ryhming couplet: plight/ slight. I knew that English Literature degree would come good some day. (2:1 Hons. I know).
Since this is looking like an educational entry, I thought I would share with you What I Have Learned Since October 22nd, 2012. Quite a catchy title, you'll agree?
1. Don't leave packing til the afternoon of your flight. You will forget lots of Useful Things. Like the year's supply of contact lenses you ordered 3 months ago, congratulating yourself at the time on your pre-planning. And promptly left on your bedroom floor.
2. If you do leave packing to the eleventh hour, do not then arrange to have your extra stuff shipped 24 hours later from the UK. You will recall mid-flight the 101 things you forgot to sort (contact lenses, silver princess shoes - not the ones with Soap Awards spunk on them FYI - phone charger etc.) It is by that time way too late to call your mother to ask her to add these essential items in, because your extra bag is already en route to NZ. You will feel like crying, and hate everyone who told you to start packing 2 weeks ago. Those self-righteous idiots. Who were right.
3. Taking a 30 hour flight is not unlike running a marathon - at some point, I'd say about 18 hours in (miles), you Hit The Wall. You no longer know who you are, where you're going, nor do you care. You have watched every single episode of Modern Family on the in-flight entertainment, and happily reminisced to the UK top 40 hits from 1999 (Mambo Number 5). Now you just want to kill yourself. And everyone else in the immediate 10m range.
4. Nobody here says G'Day.
5. Even if you say it to them first.
6. Every other person is from the UK. Don't expect to feel special. You're sooooooooo not. In fact, I'd say you're in the majority.
7. The bus drivers are way friendlier here than in Birmingham. Although they do have a somewhat dry sense of humour. One driver told me the other day in a very serious tone of voice, 'Next time you get on the bus with a coffee...' - I prepare to be scolded - 'you bring two: one for the driver'. Can you imagine a bus driver in Nechelles daying that? Do bus drivers even venture into Nechelles?!
8. Remember you're not working at the BBC anymore. It's no longer OK to explain to someone that your favourite expression for the menstrual period is evacuating copious amounts of blood from your c***. (Cue shocked Australian Gym Instructor: "I wasn't expecting the See You Next Tuesday...")
9. Don't use a Westpac ATM when you only have one debit card available to use, It may get swallowed by the machine, and you will find yourself stranded in the bank at 17:41 along with a distraught Russian homestay student and elderly Australian on her way to the opera, arguing with a total jobsworth of a Kiwi employee. True story.
10. There really are are a lot of sheep.
On the plus side nobody believes I'm from Birmingham, due to lack of accent. Yam alright our kid...
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