The Hit List

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....