Goodness knows I succumb to a bourgeoisie, capitalist and frivolous lifestyle. I joined a gym this weekend despite not yet earning a single cent to my name. FYI, I'm still squandering money off parents who pays my rent, food and luxuries. Yes, it feels guilty (and yes, the *damsel is dramatic).
Being a financially careful Jobless Graduate calculating dollars and cents, each trip plus travel definitely wasn't worth the membership at Planet Fitness (if I go around 2 - 3 times weekly, it adds up to about $10-12 SGD per trip). However, the insensible craving for smaller thighs, sculpted arms and a toned stomach soon outweighed all other sensible calculations.
Good golly the gym is fun! Signing up, my membership consultant, Maeve (check out the special name on my Chinese speaking, heavy accented consultant) showed me so many possibilities of a fitter me, by means of tones of activities I'll never get bored off (exercise classes, yoga marathons, wall climbing, swimming and fitness trainers), spa facilities and a waiver of my registration fee and a month free if I join for 12 months!
But her sales rhetoric aside, getting healthy was something I needed and it would take some time off me while I am sitting around, s-l-o-w-l-y looking for work.
I attended my first gym session on a Sunday morning. Based on their 7-days-a-week exercise class schedule, I planned to attend Yoga (with-Grand-Yoga-Master-from-India-Venky) from 12-1pm, and then Street Jazz from 1-2pm, a little machine work (hehe... only ended up doing 10 minutes on the treadmill) and a long sit down in the steam room.
My yoga class was exciting! Most definitely, it was the most intense class I've ever had. Our grand-master-of-yoga-Venky definitely lived up to his name (and like my Yoga CD instructor *lingy and I fawn over, he was a cutie too with his very nice yoga trained bod).
This guy could lift himself up with his arms while he is in a lotus (cross legged) pose. And he could do turns and lifts and twists like soft licorice. The rest of the class was pretty good too. Strong arms and immense flexibility. I was in awe with the rest of the class. I must say it is a huge change from the NUS yoga and pilates classes. NUS students, I now firmly believe, are mostly a bunch of inflexible people as they gawk at me as if I'm non-human when I can touch my toes. Wait till they see the yoga class at Planet! =)
At the Street Jazz class, the instructor again was another cutie (hehe... yes, girls... join a gym today). For those of you who have watched Centre Stage, the part where Jody Sawyer joins a jazz ballet class? Well, it was pretty much like that... especially the warm up session. Great fun save two very important points: first, if I could dance and get my tangled feet and hands coordinated, and secondly, if the people around me were not men who looked and moved a little more feminine than they should or have women all over the middle age mark. Call me Prude, but this dance had us all touching privates and shaking *booty... Definitely no no for the people around me. But I must Definitely add... the women around me had such fit bodies that look nice in their tight (and skimpy) leotards sans wrinkles and the men prolly had nicer legs and skin than mine. They can dance well too... I was most obviously the worst in the class of ten.
If there is anything I hope to achieve at gym (and this I will tell my personal instructor when I meet him tomorrow) is to gain more confidence with my body (and yes, the thighs, arms and stomach appearance too, of course!). Women, of all body shape and sizes wore their tight leotards proudly, and most walk around naked in the locker room. The steam room was a picture of half draped *goddesses (in their own right). I don't mean I want to go around the locker room half *nekkid, but if Planet Fitness did anything, it was a membership of confidence to these women.
Perhaps it is true. Sexiness, confidence and all other attitudes alluring are first a construct of the mind. Maybe, being thin or slim can be constructed the same way. If you can carry of a slinky gown with the extra inch on the arm, a love handle in the middle and tree trunks for legs and still command the looks of heated desires like Sophie Dahl (and I assure you that many of the women I've seen at the gym can), lady, I applaud you and if all my efforts fail to be thinner at the gym, I aspire to be just like you.
.::.
On another unrelated note, the *Damsel got her phone stolen on Saturday. Innocently standing inside the train, with her phone in her backpack pocket on a crowded day from City Hall to Ang Mo Kio. When I found a seat halfway through the trip, I noticed the pocket opened and the phone was missing. And I've just answered a call right before entering the train so I know I couldn't have left it elsewhere.
So a word of caution at busy places, gentle readers: beware. There are people out there who are not so nice as to trouble you with the task of gathering your phone numbers again. The biggest loss of all would be a history of text messages lost - including the one where *Gallant, pre-relationship, asked me out for our first date and offered to cook me porridge when I was sick.
So a word of caution at busy places, gentle readers: beware. There are people out there who are not so nice as to trouble you with the task of gathering your phone numbers again. The biggest loss of all would be a history of text messages lost - including the one where *Gallant, pre-relationship, asked me out for our first date and offered to cook me porridge when I was sick.
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