Ever since my homeopath told me I have a D3 situation and my bones need to work out more, else I will have to eat beef soup, I have been fantasizing about a gym. More so since my yoga class is more closed than open—they are closed for all the Jayantis, and Poornimas and Christmas and New Years’. Looks like they have more of a life than I do…
After a long hunt, I finally found a gym that looked and smelt right and was a run away from the house. At first glance, it looked professional (never mind a name like Fizzique) which means people spent more time working out and less socializing. Also, the music was not Himesh Reshammiya and there were no stinky carpets, no treadmill fights and there was plenty of sunshine. And the gym instructors looked like they worked out. This is it, I thought.
Day one and two went pretty okay. On day three I met girl-who-wants-to-know-too-much as I entered. She asked me six questions in 30 seconds. I replied to two. Now, I am terribly preoccupied with how-to-avoid-her and that is causing much stress.
But slowly I realised that a gym is a gym is a gym. And basically, there are different types of people who comprise its ecosystem:
• There are those who look great in their clothes but want to look good naked.
• There are those who don’t look good in their clothes and want to look good in their clothes (naked is a far dream)
• There are those who spend three hours and do not look left or right or make eye contact. Yes, these are the true body-obsessed. And you know what? They don’t even check their biceps every three minutes. Me thinks these are the types who believe in the means and not the end.
• There are those who check their mobile phones every 20 seconds, just to make sure they haven’t got that ‘missed call’ from someone they always obsessed about.
• There are the girl brigades who descend in threes and spend more time in the locker room discussing men problems and how they don’t give a damn and are going to give it all to their abs.
• There is the solitary female who spends more time checking her highlights and whether her bra strap is coordinated with her singlet. And whether her hair has just the right amount of bounce as she burns calories on the cross bar.
• There is the ipod maniac who will be tricked into doing any number of reps or sets, because he is too zoned out and uses the gym as an excuse to download more music.
• There are those who work out with such manic obsession—teeth clenched, face contorted, eyes shut—that you think they will have a seizure any minute
• There are those who inherited some great gym gear and want to show it off
• There are those who come to scope the scene out and find out which cross bars and treadmills have the best scoring potential.
• There are those who do not have a full-length mirror at home and are over-awed
• And then there are those like me who make the most out of having to gym for a therapeutic reason—they use it as a forum to generate material for their column