Zibah
‘‘Screw you bro, screw you Mr U. To hell with this’’ I mentally yell, furious as I’m presently incapable of audible speech. My eyes have glazed over from the pain, my muscles are numb, my teeth are clenched painfully and I am quivering like a young cold foal leaving the comfort of a womb.
“We aren’t done with you yet, I still have one more round with you” say Mr U pleasantly. His tone infuriates me and my hands are currently busy or it would have been on transit to snap his jaw.
I’m currently scattered across my bed like an old rag doll, my limbs are awkwardly placed and I feel boneless even breathing is a difficult chore as I hiss through clenched teeth with every inhale of polluted oxygen. All I can manage without wincing is tossing choice mental expletives in Hebrew to the people responsible for my pains.
I registered at the gym two days ago after the relentless prompting from my elder bro who is built like a bull. After thinking back to that day, three years ago when Genny (a female colleague) grabbed my waist and accused me of sporting a figure 8 so I agreed. ‘‘let’s give it a shot’’ I foolishly replied. Three years ago my 6.2 frame looked like it belonged to a female model; slim and straight with no bumps whatsoever, presently, i have filled out a little but generally still unimpressive. I had assumed the 40daily push-ups and the almost-7 sit-ups would be sufficient to pull me through gym class, how sadly naive.
‘‘Zibah, you are TOO stiff, another round of 10’’
That’s Mr U, my trainer. He is at most a few years older than I am. I cast him a ‘die bitch’ glare but still my tongue, the last time I replied in a harsh language earned me an extra 20 sit-ups, I have learned my lesson. I resume the awkward position with my legs strapped into a contraption as he begins the countdown to 0. At 6 my mid-section had gone numb, I cast a frightened glance downwards to be certain it hadn’t torn itself out of my body and gone off to sulk in a corner.
Great, now let’s switch positions, I want your head here and your arms positioned outward…..
Mr U goes on to bark several orders which I mechanically follow; even my brain is thoroughly bummed. Few minutes later I collapse into a pathetic heap on the floor, I tune Mr U out as he mumbles something about rest and coming back in 5minutes. I transport my battered psyche to a beach in Hawaii with hot moco chics swinging their hips seductively and winking at me. Aha! This is the life. Did I mention I was sporting a ripped physique in my day-dream?
Oh shit! From the corner of my eyes I see Mr U making his way back. I attempt to stand but fail royally as my legs seem to be made of jelly. This will hurt a little, I say comfortingly to my pride as I make my way to a dark corner crawling on all fours and cursing Mr U, his boss and everyone they had ever come in contact with….of course I remembered to include my big bro, after all he had championed the decision that brought me here. Satisfied at the spot selected, I smirk mischievously knowing that it would take a few minutes to be found. I pull out my blackberry and with shaky fingers resume chatting.
‘‘ZIBAH WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE’’, Mr U thunders behind me as his foot is delivering a swift kick to my bruised behind, ouch!
So soon, damn, I should have sought out a darker spot. I pout petulantly as I crawl back out of my compromised hideout, I believe Mr U derives pleasure in torturing me as the gym is the only place he has the opportunity to legally bully lazy bums like me. I scowl at the lady he is introducing to me; apparently she would be in charge of aerobic exercises and strengthening my ‘stiff’ muscles. Wait, why is she smiling cheerfully?
Sit down here, move your knees to this point. Good, now slowly raise your torso. Maintain that position for a few minutes. That is Cheerful lady yapping cheerfully, she doesn’t waste any time in assuming the role of Dominatrix. Suddenly she frowns and raises my shoulders higher and my stomach muscles begin to protest from the incessant abuse. A few minutes later I’m lying flat on my back with my legs thrown over my shoulder; this is supposed to work my back muscles. It leaves my ass hanging high in the air with cheerful lady’s face close by as she leans in to ensure my legs remain straight. What I would give to be able to power my colon to blast noxious gas on her cheerful face. This is just absurd, Zibah came here to develop 6packs abs and a body to die for and these people are trying their damndest to put me in a wheel chair.
‘‘ok, we are done for today, we shall continue tomorrow. Same time, see you then…..and you did great Zibah’’ why did she say that like an after-thought? And with that parting statement cheerful lady saunters off leaving me a tangled mess of limbs. I’m mighty glad the gym is close to my apartment and even happier big bro isn’t around because I currently lack the strength to claw his eyes out (he is made of lean muscles, my punches would have no effect so imma fight like a sisi). I waddle like an aged penguin with arthritis towards my apartment; oblivious of the curious stares directed my way.
I can’t remember where the strength to shower or brush came from; I guess I was fuelled by anger and indignation. Must I suffer to look ripped? Its currently day three, everything hurts; my leg muscles burn, my stomach isn’t even talking to me, my biceps and chest seem to be responding nicely enough but my butt feels like its enclosed in ice. I can’t feel either cheek.
I’m certainly not looking forward to today’s training, may even refrain from going. I have half a mind to gulp a slight overdose of my cough syrup; the thing never fails to knock me out for a few hours. Still have 29days to go before my gym subscription would be terminated or renewed and I would be damned if I quit, ‘‘I NEVER quit’’ i remind myself (at this point I mentally give myself the finger). I have to go to work tomorrow; it would be comical to note how I fare.
P.S I need motivation so if you are ripped or still erm…ripping, kindly leave a comment on things I could do to numb this pain *sobs quietly into handkerchief*
Cheers,
Zibah.
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