When To Join The Gym

I was walking out of my local sports centre the other day, following a workout. I was feeling pretty good about myself. I had managed to get out of bed and be in the gym before 10am and had spent an hour running, lifting weights and stretching – not bad for a Saturday morning. As I walked towards the front door, I noticed the latest poster on a notice board, intended to attract new members. It had the name of the gym, with the words “Where The Fit People Are” in big red letters. ‘Yup’ I thought, as if I was the person they had in mind when thinking up the strap line, ‘That’s me’ and with that I held my stomach in until I was out of the front door.

I haven’t always been a member of a gym though. A few years ago it was a very different affair. Up until I was 24 years old, I could pretty much eat anything I wanted and not put on an ounce. I’d eat chicken pies and chips and desserts in the staff canteen daily, together with Mars Bars and Twix and crisps and so on and so forth, and I wouldn’t think twice about it – I didn’t need to. I was stick thin and I didn’t see any reason to imagine that that might change.

Within what seemed like a heartbeat though, I seemed to reach my late Twenties and then early Thirties and I noticed a sagging at the top of my neck. I first saw it when getting a haircut one day. I was wearing a roll neck sweater and noticed that I seemed to have two chins. I told myself that it was the sweater that gave the impression of looking slightly chunky rather than me actually being slightly chunky.

I thought I looked fine as I saw myself in the mirror every morning. But that’s the problem with looking at yourself daily – you don’t notice change. Even when I moved to a different belt notch, I didn’t give it much thought. Surely I was just filling out – the natural process that everyone goes through as a part of getting older, wasn’t I..?

Not everyone thought so. I dismissed jibes from friends as part and parcel of matey banter and general ribbing and didn’t really take any of it to heart, carrying on in blissful ignorance. I wasn’t fat exactly, but I was bigger than I used to be. And as I saw it, the last thing I wanted, or needed for that matter was gym membership and I avoided it as all cost. It took someone else to make me aware though. When it came to giving me a message, there was only one person who could shock me into seeing things differently.

Let me first say that my Mum is the sweetest, loveliest and best person I know. She doesn’t have a bad bone in her body or a mean word to say about anyone. She loves meeting people and everyone who meets her, loves her. Amazing though her loveliness is however, it can also lull you into a false sense of security, and when a pertinent comment comes, the effect can be like a playground football shattering a classroom window.

I was visiting home one weekend when I made the mistake of walking downstairs to make tea in the morning with my shirt off. “Are you going to get dressed today?” asked Mum, watching me as I stirred my tea. “Yeah, of course” I said, “I’m just making a cup of tea and then I’ll go upstairs and put on a shirt” “Oh good, only...” she reached across, smiled and cupped one of my very modest moobs “...if you want to borrow one of my bras – second drawer on the left in my room.”

My gob smacked - the following day I joined the gym.