I dropped J&C off this morning, raced home to get changed into gym gear and sat on the couch. Until 7.50am. My first gym session started at 8am. I was cool, with my tracksuit pants, the tshirt that covers the love tyres around my waist and my bottle of orange juice and water. And my towel. Those eager little instructors descended on me to show me the gear and how to use it.
Now I don't know about any of you, but a gym for me has always been a war zone. Way back in the 90s when Health & Racquet first hit the scene, I got myself a gym membership contract. For the first six weeks I showed up religiously, got into doing water aerobics. The circuit scared the crap out of me with all the stuff you had to remember about all the machines. Then I developed the bladder infection from hell. I stopped going but still continued to pay my monthly fee. After the contract ended I never saw the inside of a gym again, until Friday when I joined up.
What I remember about my one and only gym experience were the gym bunnies, those over made up and over dressed little bodies that kept on going, and those machines.
At Curves, there was none of that. Oh there were some ladies there, but overall they looked like I did, overweight and underfit. I was done in 40 minutes. And my muscles don't hurt, yet.
I'm looking forward to Wednesday.