Ooh Aah Ouch!
A torture device par excellence in Germany in the Middle Ages. Now found at that peculiar institution that doubles as a gay man's temple, church,mosque and synagogue rolled into one. The Gym.
Well, not the Iron Maiden itself (though a certain instructor at the Gold's Gym in Bandra could very much qualify for that moniker) But all the assorted torture devices that I've been put through in the last week that I've been "gymming".
I finally succumbed to the lure of attractive hotties parading on St. John's road everyday and walked in with them one afternoon last week. I signed up, forked over a huge chunk of change and err...went shopping! After all, I need working out clothes...
Time to gym. Err.. just what is locker room protocol in India? In the US, everyone just lets everything hang out...which has lead to many traumatic sightings of obese, elderly men with teeny weenies in my past. In "des", I see a lot of the ol' "Indian man changing undies under a towel" bit. First you hop about on one leg, then on the other - all the while clutching at the towel around your waist for dear life. Anyway, I picked a dark corner (My abs aren't at peak "look at me" potential yet) and changed into what seemed like way too much gear. I mean, who needs a wristband anyway?
I'm assigned a trainer who looks like a pitbull. Seriously. He has no neck and about 200 inches of chest. And a high pitched voice. I try not to laugh at how silly this tableau is and concentrate as he tells me in Marathi what I'm supposed to do to look like him someday (He decides I'm Marathi and will only converse with me in that language inspite of me struggling with translations for "I'm dying here" and "Please turn the fucking treadmill off"). He measures me up and says I need a couple of inches here and there and I'd look just like him. Whatever. I'm about 50 inches down on getting arms like him. He must be either blind or a very good motivator. I settle for blind cause here I am with my shirt off and he won't even comment on it...let alone ask me to join him for a protein shake at the juice bar.
10 minutes later and I'm huffing and puffing on a treadmill. I don't think I've ever run in one place since 1998. I wonder if this is a good time to bring up the fact I have asthma and my inhaler is in the locker room. I decide against it when I realize the only Marathi word for disease I know is that for "smallpox". After all, I don't need guys in head-to-toe bio-hazard equipment escorting me out of Gold's Gym..it's hard enough attracting the boys in the first place! I concentrate on what's playing on the TV above my head. It's some show on cooking what looks like eggplant. Is that really a help? I mean watching people make food at a gym? It's hard to follow what's happening with no sound. It's even harder to concentrate when you're running on #8 with an incline of 3. Damn. I should have jogged Zig Zag Road instead of settling for the flat Carter's promenade! My thighs ache.
Free weight time! I flex looking at myself in the mirror. Then I catch sight of a long-nosed Punjabi hottie looking at me and sniggering. I look away embarassed (Note to self: Only work out in non-cruisy hours) Aim High! Isn't that what my teachers always taught me? I plan on aiming high now. Go straight for the heavy weights. OK....the first set isn't too bad. The second set? I already am regretting my choice. Am I even gonna get to the third set? My arms are on fire. My chest seems to have caved in. The trainer stops by. "Sampla ka?" he asks me ("Are you done yet?") "Ho" I lie. I stagger to the water cooler and down about 10 cups of cold water. I wonder if it's OK to cry at the gym.
Crawl my way to the shower and realize I'm now too weak to turn the faucet on. I feel like I've had every single spike of the Iron maiden impale my soft, yielding body. My trainer walks into the adjoining cubicle. I forgive him all his machinations to get me to do more when I realize he has an arse only Michelangelo could appreciate. Sigh. Now I know why I'm going to continue working out even though I'm detesting it after my first day itself. Cause with an arse like that, I could conquer the world.
I exit the gym and head to KFC. 2 Zinger burgers down and I'm about ready for a third. I'm guilty already.
Namak - Omkara
An awesome movie and an awesome song. Probably one of the only "item" numbers I truly like.