Let’s face it. There are only 2 types of places in this planet where a 400-pound man such as myself can turn into a beautiful, skinny, willowy swan. Either at your local liposuction clinic or the gym.

(ok, make that 3 places, cause you can snort cocaine in clubs and then dance the night away to burn calories. let’s forget drug abuse though. drugs are so… what’s a nice word… dark ages ago)

I once went to the gym for about 8 months, starting from January 2003. The one nearest my house was Fitness First – it was literally a 3 minute drive. Could be less, depending on how pomped up my driver was at the time.

I was one of the early birds. You’ll never see me at the gym after 11AM. For several months, I religiously went there from 6:00AM until 10:00AM. I abused all the cardio stuff I could possibly do — 30 minutes on the treadmill, a couple of minutes on the ellipticals, glides, blah blah, and a few minutes doing resistance.

Fitnessfirst

I *never* did the weights because of personal insecurities and issues against the hordes of muscle maries lifting 50-pound weights. Why, why oh why oh why oh why should I, who, at that time, was 5-foot-9 weighing 100 pounds, subject myself to lifting weights, surrounded by steroid-injecting, drug-abusing, metabolism-obsessed, sweaty, bulging, muscular shitholes?

Deep down inside I have this nagging feeling that I’m gonna be the subject of ridicule and laughter for trying to lift a 5-pound dumb (yes) bell. So yes, I avoided the weights altogether.

I did go there one time and yes, a muscle mary bitch was even friendly to me and taught me how to do it right.

But no. I just don’t wanna go there.

In any case, I have to admit I enjoyed going to the gym. I had a little crush thing there who was quite alright. Every bloody day he was there, spent most of the time doing eye contact. It took us around 5 god damn months just to actually say hi to each other and in the end, I didn’t quite like him because he is a student. Icky eh?

Everything was fun up until the day where this

vicious, old-aged, vintage, fat, wrinkly  just-

fucking-die-cause-the-world-and-your-coffin-is-

waiting grandmother-type chit chatted to my mom

on the elliptical. 

The VO-AVFWJG had the fucking nerve to ask my mother "who is that faggot talking on his mobile phone on the treadmill? He’s been there for 30 minutes now and doesn’t he know mobile calls are expensive?"

To my mom’s amusement, she said "I don’t know".

Later that day, my mom told me about it and I asked her point blank why the hell she didn’t say anything about me being the result of her first fuck 18 (+4) years ago. She said she didn’t want to ruin the VO-AVFWJG’s moment.

Since then, I’ve never set foot to the gym because of embarassment. I enjoyed talking to my friends while I’m on the damn treadmill. Every day, I speed dial my friends and gossip. It was the only time for me to catch up with my friends from all corners of the planet. Early morning here, early evening in the US/late evening in Europe. Multi-task silvous plait. Burn calories and gossip at the same time — while being sober.

Fast forward 2 years later…

Earlier this morning when I got up, I noticed my love handles are getting bigger. Not that it’s new or anything. But this time, they’re really inflated. Somehow overnight, I got pregnant, gave birth and now I’ve got post-pregnancy fat.

One of my clients said he bought an elliptical trainer last week and he’s been enjoying it. Like myself, he works at home and going to the gym can be a pain sometimes. He does run every now and then — you know, run like running on the streets, something I could never, ever, ever be caught dead doing in public. He also said something about working out, blah blah bullshit.

I got inspired and thought, well, since I don’t want to go the gym, why not have my own mini-gym.

My mom mentioned she wants to buy a treadmill so we can all run while watching TV/doing rounds of phone gossip but she backed out because my dad said we’d eventually get sick of it… and they already go to the gym anyway.

Whatever. They need to sort out their issues. I’ve got my own.

I came across this website called FitnessQuest.com and ordered 2 things — the Total Gym 1700 Club and the Ab Lounge Ultimate.

17totalgym250  Abloungeultimate_250

I know they’re just basic home devices whatever and nothing as sophisticated as real gym equipment but I’m worried about space etc. I got them at a bargain too, roughly around $540 for both. I’m having it sent to my office in the US who will then FedEx it to me.  I’d say about 3 weeks and I’ve got my own mini gym. Till then, all I can do is sit here and get myself as pregnant as possible.

Personally I have doubts with these "get-nice-abs-at-home" equipment but I thought I’d give it a try. I’ve never really met (or heard of) anyone who have used home equipment and gotten good results. Everyone got theirs at the gym.

God, I don’t even want a 6-pack. That’s just too… disgusting. So so outré. I want a flat, painfully small waist and long, skinny arms to match. Heck, all I want is a body of a skinny, pre-pubescent 11 year old boy. I want to be a pedophile magnet — at 22. Chicken at its finest. Looks can sometimes kill and if I had a body such as the one I just mentioned, all these dirty pedophile scumbags will die. Nya nyi nya nyi nya nya you can look but ya can’t have what you see you dirty old fart.

Enough fitness talk. I need a burger. A big, fat, juicy one.