Let me tell you a story. Sitting comfortably? Got a cup of tea or your preferred comforting beverage? Good. I’m going to tell you the story of the husband and wife who ultimately fail at gymming.
So we’ve been a member of many gyms in our time. I’ve actually been a member of about six in my time as a human. All of them ending in failure, waiting out the period you have to be a member, cursing them for taking £40 out of your bank every month until that glorious day when you can leave.
Our latest gym was joined because we wanted to look OK magazine amazing in our wedding photos (even though my wife looks infinitely better than that anyway). Maybe this should spark another discussion about being happy and healthy vs the images thrown at us in said magazines but I digress. We did it, we joined up and went to the gym…a bit.
Now, post marriage, post honeymoon, post wedding-planning mania we sat down, went back to work, had no reason pushing us to go. The fact of the matter is the gym isn’t the most enjoyable place. Why are they all so clinical? Why are they all so full of people who look like they know what they’re doing? The beefcakes in the weight area, or the ones in vests on the mats doing what I like to call ‘alternative press ups’. Why, I ask you, aren’t they wood-panelled and cosy, with nice things on the walls. Books to hold while you do bicep curls with a sizable dumbell crafted to look like something out of National Treasure (exercise the mind as you polish your guns would be my gym’s motto *waggles eyebrows*).
Me at the gym? At Globogym when I want Average Joes? I must look like an extra in Transformers on the cross trainer. Running, arms circling, flailing around dodging Decepticon bullets. On the weights machines, I never feel like I’m doing it right. I even slouch on gym equipment.
But yesterday, for the first time in yonks, we went, we gymmed, I flailed.
And then we went home, but first to Waitrose.
Disclaimer. We are not posh enough to shop in Waitrose but there’s one next to our gym.
We circled the aisles, we picked up some fruit – bananas, good start. Then we went for weekend lunch. Charlotte went for a tomato and basil soup to have at the weekend. She continued strong. But then I fell. And herein lies the problem, and was the crux of my failure.
I should never shop on an empty stomach, I’m just to gosh-darned weak, and just after work this is exactly what you’re doing. Worse, you should never go to the gym with an empty stomach and then go shopping. In Waitrose.
So I decided I wanted a bacon and halloumi sandwich this weekend. (With salad – I’m not a total failure). But then, the biscuit aisle. And they were just sitting there, uncharacteristically cheap. Jammie Dodgers and Party Rings. And we needed bread, so we got bread – seeded, nice, semi-good for you. But sitting there, on the bottom shelf, a wily temptress, flashing us all kinds of batter – waffles.
And then home to dinner. We get Hello Fresh (which is amazing – blog incoming), but tonight we decided we’d just make some pasta with an emergency pasta sauce from the cupboard. But alas. No sauce. I was 70% sure we had sauce.
And then I fell. It was like a war film, I’d gone over the top and been felled. I suggested a takeaway. My favourite pizza from uni, Pizza Bella, King Street Twickenham (famous for screening slightly inappropriate gory horror films in a food establishment while you wait), with the best mozzarella sticks on earth.
But we went to the gym first so it’s a healthy takeaway, right?
We picked up Wonder Woman in Waitrose though, so, you know, swings and roundabouts.
Am I a bad person?