I have a confession...my resolve...it has slipped. But fear not dear reader, it will not be for long.
A week ago, I moved house. What a terrible, terrible weekend that was. A traumatic experience, but one during which I have become enamored with my own biceps, and indeed how well they are working. I was also able to reassure myself that the many (many) stairs involved, the heavy boxes and my general lack of friendships that offer physical favours (you know what I mean!!), would make up for missing three gym sessions so far. Yes, I feel bad. I feel that I have neglected you. I feel that I have neglected my own dreams. And my own ambitions for my arms.
Moving house, changing location isn't easy. You have to start again. And that also goes for gyms to. I turn up at reception. The glass doors the kind that I am imagine gracing the doorway to heaven, and the warm, soft lighting emanating from within filling me with hope and a love of exercise. I am veritably bouncing upon the balls of my feet. A new gym. A new town I think. The world is my oyster I think.
The world is not playing today. "Sorry love," says the big toothless grin, "you need to have an induction." "But I know how to use a gym," I protest weakly (betraying the real size of my biceps), "I can even provide references if you want!" Toothless grin is having none of it, and grin changes to grimace as an application form is thrust towards me. "And there's a waiting list!!" She hollers as she sashays through a door marked 'Staff Only' and reaches for a stagnant 'Slush Puppie.'
And so he waits....
Very traumatic! Yes the many,
Very traumatic! Yes the many, many stairs and hauling boxes and assorted furniture up and down do make for extra workouts. As far as the gym, I would suggest you sign up at a few to see which one you like the best!