Picture the scene: it is 8am on a Monday morning. You do not have to be at work because you are on annual leave. You have no other plans. What are you doing with your new found freedom? You are in the gym.
Actually, you probably aren't in the gym. No-one in their right mind is in the gym at 8am on a holiday Monday ... except me, apparently.
Actually, you probably aren't in the gym. No-one in their right mind is in the gym at 8am on a holiday Monday ... except me, apparently.
Yes, you read that last part correctly. I was in the gym at 8am on a Monday morning for an induction and for an instructor to make me a training program, which I have to stick to for a long time. The reason I have to stick to it is simple: the gym are taking £33.50 away from my bank account every month and I am a stickler for getting value for money (for example, the chocolate fudge cake I got for tea was exceptional value for money ... Mr B bought it).
I met my gym instructor, Sharon, at 8am. She was very small and sweet looking. This was deceptive. It lulled me into a false sense of security ... and then she pounced. An hour and a half later, without any notion of what I was getting myself into, I had become the (not so) proud owner of a gym program with only one aim: to kill me. Or at least damage me to such an extent that I will have to crawl back to the changing room on my tummy.
I wish I was joking, truly, I do.
It's been so nice knowing you all ...
I met my gym instructor, Sharon, at 8am. She was very small and sweet looking. This was deceptive. It lulled me into a false sense of security ... and then she pounced. An hour and a half later, without any notion of what I was getting myself into, I had become the (not so) proud owner of a gym program with only one aim: to kill me. Or at least damage me to such an extent that I will have to crawl back to the changing room on my tummy.
I wish I was joking, truly, I do.
It's been so nice knowing you all ...
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