The real thing…

I always think that joining a gym is a bit like getting a new boyfriend. You go for a few dates/ have a trial session then suddenly you have to make a commitment and start spending your weekends together and handing over your direct debit details (NB.the DD is just for the gym) But at this stage you don’t really mind because you are thoroughly over excited. You want to see each other every day, you can’t wait to get hot and sweaty after work and although you wouldn’t admit it to anyone, during bored moments on the tube you start to indulge in blissful daydreams about the future of lean limbs or weekends in European cities.

A month in and those small flaws are beginning to grate on though. Why does the vending machine only sell Lucozade not water and why does he say “banter” in every single sentence??

Two months down the line and you are desperately trying to wriggle out of this. I told my last gym with an entirely deadpan expression that I was moving to the Czech Republic for a work placement ( In fact I had just read an article on Prague in the Metro that morning) in order to escape my contract. Even the lovely freedom afterwards is the same and you can giddily run around and see your friends after work.

However I think it could be the real thing this time, the happy ever after following all those flings. I have found a gym called Frame in Shoreditch and it might be love. Firstly it’s not really a gym because they only do classes and the classes are AMAZING. I can pirouette my way through a ballet lesson and pretend to be Natalie Portman or channel my inner Jane Fonda for the 80s aerobics. Boring day at work? Maybe some hula hooping will sort me out. So I am never going to get bored. It is uber trendy , no one from work goes there and looking at the clothes everyone there wears is better than reading a style magazine for inspiration. And best of all they don’t want me to commit, I just call when I want to book. So if I do get fed up I won’t have to stage my own death.

If my last gym worked in the city, wore a shirt tucked into jeans and had a penchant for missionary then this one is a divine looking media trendy who keeps you on your toes by never asking you out. FIT. Yes please!

Oh and please don’t mention to my old gym that I am still in the country…

http://www.moveyourframe.com/home/

Something in the post…

I came home today to a parcel in our letterbox. I was pretty excited to see this as normally council tax reminders are as good as my post gets. So I tore straight into it to find a pair of knickers and a bra. Not just a random set though. Mine.

Now I’m no saint but I don’t generally shed my underwear at the drop of a hat so I immediately began to imagine a shady anorak clad figure sneaking into my flat, rifling through my drawers (excuse the pun) and returning victorious to his basement flat covered in pictures of me. Reality check required though, firstly I am not that photogenic and secondly I had to admit my imaginary stalker had been pretty low key so far.

Then I saw the note.

“Kales, after moving rooms I came across a few things of yours – memories of a great summer. Ben”

Ah right, Ben, the boy next door who I had a fling with and now avoid like the plague, necessitating dawn wheelie bin visits to ensure our paths don’t cross. Well yes Ben, it was a great summer, although slightly less great once I found out you already had a girlfriend in Greece.

This would have been more surprising if my track record with boyfriends wasn’t so bad. Hot but terrible is the unanimous verdict among my friends. For example my other beau last year had a Cheryl Cole poster on his wall – bad enough in itself but I always used to catch him staring at it when we were supposed to be in the throes of passion. Funnily enough I didn’t fancy a ménage a trois with Cheryl’s poster form. I haven’t watched X Factor since. And may I add this wasn’t even his worst fault.

So this year I would like a Valentines card from a nice boy please. And if it doesn’t work out please feel free to chuck my knickers, posting them back is just a little bit too cringey.

K xx