Working out

So Here I was in the waiting room of the gym,my mind burdened with the guilt of losing 14k in 8 seconds. The gym accountant happily took my debit card , swiped it in his mouth and gave me the merchant copy for my approval.Asking me to wait in the reception seating area, he got back to his work. Looking at his evil smile , I assume he was probably looking at debonair blog or last year's savitha bhabhi archives.Slowly, My mind wandered to whether gym would work out for me (or rather if I would work out at the gym properly). Well, How hard could it be? I mean,a lot of these bollywood kids do it. And imagine how nice it would be to have a shahid kapoor torso and how nice would it be to have girls fall for me. Just when my mind started wandering towards Miami beach,the "son of an idiot" trainer who deserved to be oil fried to death for disturbing my fantasy showed up .





My head banged on the entrance door. Only later to notice a "Keep your head down" sign over the top. The trainer apparently blessed with the IQ of a 5 year old found the slapstick incident as the only understandable source of comedy for the day and gave a big grin. I then gave him a tight slap across his left cheek. Oh, ok , that did'nt happen(though I wanted to). So here I was staring at all the equipments of the gym. The trainer took all the measurement like he was going to stitch a tuxedo for me. He handed out my card which described my body with numerous statistical data. It had data on my body mass, fat mass, water mass, land mass, and other terms which I am pretty sure are made up by these people.

There are 2 kinds of people who you see at the gym . The ones who could hurt your ego. The others who are sent by god to make you feel better about yourself. There was this huge muscular guy, who brought a fancy "Glucose isotonic" drink to gym, wore this adidas wrist band,a tight t-shirt and no inner banian to highlight his physique . He looked like he could swallow a live chicken right away and give 4 loud burps in each direction as a sign of masculinity. When I saw him , I imagined a live chicken sitting in his stomach waiting for somebody to get it out of there. He lifted a 20 kg dumbbell making the "ARRRRGGHHH" noise as he lifted them, in contrast to my louder "ARRRRGGHHH" when I lift the 2kg vegetable oil pack from my bike to the kitchen. He kept repeating the dumbbell workout like an out of control maniac making a weird "woof woof" noise . Looking at him was intimidating me. Frankly he could trash me up in a moment with just his left thumb.There was no way I could get a physique like that. The only way I could snub him was probably by showing him my marksheet and saying "Ha, Now take that superman".

And there there is this god sent fat uncle who drives a skoda, sports a moustache and looks like a Helium gas balloon. He looked frigging rich, always had a blackberry (which looked like an AA battery in his giant palm) and struggles to type in it with his giant fingers. Thankfully, people like him are the ego- boosters for new joineess at the gym. Genearally fat-skoda uncle walks on the treadmill as slowly as the lines of devotees in Tirupathi.

The ladies at the gym mostly constitute the middle aged maamis who probably think that they look like Hemamalini's second sister and wear makeup for a workout. These are the middle aged women who are probably wives of early software techies of the 90's who have enough money to throw away and enough time in their hands. As expected they speak of soaps, gossips about who ran away with whom and blaming the government.

I move away to the place where I could sneak away with a mild exercise away from these people. So I take a 6 kg dumbbell , start curling my biscep. The trainer told me to repeat that 20 times,2 sets(ya, sets is the gym lingo indicating repitition). this was when I realized how much of a big number 20 was. While I conveniently was counting alternate digits, I noticed a well built girl walking beside me and taking the 8 kg dumbbell. She wore a huge circular ear ring, big enough that it looked like the hoop that lions jump into at Royal circus. She started her 8kg workout and quite comfortably started curling her bicep,putting my male-ego to further embarrassment. After counting till 19 in my odd number series, I started seeing red spots flying near me. I stepped away from the "Karnam Malleshwari of Adyar zone" and went to the water dispenser and had my fill of water.

I kick started my bike and headed off home.Thoughts started filling my mind again. Maybe I need not be a fit guy to get what I dream of. Maybe I ll just work hard and become something like Vijay Mallya. Then probably, I could have my own custom Kingfisher super-model calendar. While my mind was drifting to the shores of the Miami beach again,a guy drove past me in a pulsar whose life purpose was to wreck my fantasies shouted, "Oiiii, side stand". I saw him, it was'nt a he after all. Miss "Karnam Malleshwari of Adyar zone" drives a Pulsar. I stopped my CT-100 (108kmpl mileage bike) at the corner in disappointment

P.S: I promise I will write more frequently than my gym visits. And also, most importantly thanks to everyone who has been visiting my blog for the past few months.