Nobody likes going to the gym right? Well my experience of Fitness First in Norwich has pretty much put me off gyms for life
Well like many things this particular place tried so hard to court me into joining with free towels, training sessions, hot instructors and promises of new equipment. A bit like the hotel that looks uber flash in the brochure but is a rat infested shit hole when you arrive Fitness First was no different…
The gym itself stinks. For some reason those that work out there do not realise that if you wear exercise clothes once and then put them back into your gym bag once used, when that sweat dries and then gets wet again the next time you wear it then you will smell like a damp wet dog that has just been festering around in the neighbours fish pond.
The clientele are split into three separate camps :
- The big muscle boys – these boys always go straight upstairs where they no doubt snort steroids and wank over each other with their roid rotten one inch penises while lifting five times their own body weight. I have never been upstairs in my gym, never will go there as I am scared I will get eaten
- The foreign visitors – these boys are normally indian and like their buses from their home country they always go to every machine as a gang of ten, chatter loudly in their mother tongue, analyse the weight distribution in the machine mechanics and then move on without actually doing anything.
- The corporates – These boys are aware they work in an office and cannot compete with the carpenters, scaffolders etc of this world who lord it about on a Saturday night with their outdoor tans, home made tattoos and muscles and their wads of cash owing to ‘cash only’ jobs. These pale faced cretins will be glued to their exercise cards and wearing brand new Nike gear which cost as much as their years membership. They will lift as much as a seven year old girl, attend the gym for a couple of months but then pay for it for two years as they will never dare face the big guy on reception to cancel.
- The obese– These poor dears are only going to the gym because their doctor has said if they don’t they will die. They are to be seen red faced and gasping on an exercise bike and looking like they might actually throw themselves through the windows owing to the wafts of the All You Can Eat Chinese wafting up from downstairs.
- The ladies of leisure – The off peak over 40 lovelies that don’t need to work so they fill their days doing gentle stretching and trips to the garden centre before perusing the Joules Country Casuals catalogue over a nice slice of lemon sponge and fruit tea. These ladies will ride an exercise bike with a magazine propped on the front more leisurely than if they are riding through a country park. I aim for this life.
- The hot dollies – these 19 year old goddesses tend to travel in packs of two or three. They will be in the changing room for a good hour pre workout touching up their already perfect make up and squeezing each others non existent fat bulges. These girls will only go on machines where they can work out alongside each other and chat. This means an extraordinary amount of time is spent waiting and chatting and striking poses.
- The couples – Couples sicken me at the best at times but those that are on a ‘lets get fit together’ crusade and mop each others brows and congratulate each other after each exercise give me ball ache. Can you not even put each other down for five minutes to sweat alone?
- Me – the one that is there as she is the wrong side of 30 and cannot eat like a bulimic that forgets to throw up and yet still have the abs of a 17 year old anymore. Me who works out with a look of anger that says ‘I hate this but I have to do it – do not touch or talk to me as I want to get out of here as soon as humanly possible. Me who suck everything in to the point of bursting if a hot tattooed lovely walks past. Me who is not renewing her membership as a boob lift is easier.
On Sunday Fitness First Norwich told me my membership had expired two months ago. It hadn’t – in fact I had three months left but they told me their computer system was new and had lost any info pre November. I didn’t realise such a big company bought their systems from Delboy on the market. This drone on the till told me I had to call head office, jump through five hoops, give her my first born, sell my granny to the slave trade and then and only then would she give me renewal options and let me back in the gym.
The words ‘Fuck You’ spring to mind. Keep your freaks and sweat stained carpets as I’d have more fun playing dog turd tennis.