Week 13 - Day 103

The Xena Project
Week 13
Days without sugar: 30

Why does she have her shirt rolled up like that? OMG, what a poser. Is that all the weight he's going to lift? Just five minutes on the treadmill! He watched himself in the mirror that whole time. This chick is clueless.

I went to the gym last night, outside class, just to work out. I have to say that I was completely out of place. I felt so illegitimate amongst all those heavenly bodies all pushing, sculpting, posing and scoping ... yes scoping everyone else out. I hadn't realised how intense the culture of comparison was, never noticed until I found myself at the gym without a trainer or a friend to distract me.

There's an immense difference between the public sector gym downstairs and the private gym I now go to. At work, there are a couple of gods and goddesses, but it's pretty much a group normal people wearing baggy clothes to hide their baggy thighs. They huff and puff on the equipment. Their faces go red. Their hair sticks out at funny angles.

At the private gym, the ratio of divinity to normality is intimidating. Is there such a thing as designer sweat? How much straining of those thick, corded muscles under thin fabric can a girl take before she disappears into the ladies' workout room to catch her breath? How much of that tanned, toned, tiny outfitted posturing can a girl take before she trips into the cardio section to pound her self esteem back into shape?

I've never felt so observed before, so self-conscious. The gym is its own nation with a fashion, culture and language. I was a stranger in a strange land and I'm sure they could spot the tourist from across the room. I wonder, do I have the courage to stick it out long enough to turn ex-pat in gymland?