Sunday, 17 May 2009

Strike a pose

What is with the gym and beautiful people?

I’m not talking about bulging biceps or buns of steel. No. I’m talking about styled hair, mascara and lipstick. Why do people have to look so God damn glamorous when they’re at the gym?

It’s a difficult concept to get my head around. You wake up early on a Saturday or Sunday morning and think “I know, I’ll go to the gym”. You grab your gym gear and water bottle, but before heading out the door you decide a bit of makeup wouldn’t go amiss.

Um, why?

Let’s think about this. Gym equals exercise. Exercise equals hot and sweaty. Hot and sweaty equals tomato look-a-like, equals unglamorous.

Well this is how it works for me.

Within five minutes of befriending the stepping machine I’m panting like a heifer, thighs wobbling, wishing I hadn’t consumed that second piece of chocolate cake. My face is now turning an unpleasant shade of red, a sticky dampness is forming on the back of my neck and I have the distinct feeling my underarms might be starting to smell.

Some foundation and mascara is not going to help that.

Indeed, if I was wearing makeup, I believe my face might resemble a tan-coloured oil slick, with smudged eyeliner and a drink bottle sporting a pink hue where I’ve been sipping.

But who cares about that – it’s all about the exercise.

And if my exercising neighbours are lucky I might just push myself hard enough where a grunt escapes my mouth or strain my facial muscles in such a way my face is contorted into what some perverts have dubbed “the sex-face”.

Hmmm attractive. Not!

So am I the only one that works hard enough to bring up a sweat?

Oh ok, so maybe that is the trick. Just don’t do any exercise.

But we have a problem folks. I suspect these makeup-wearing, sex-oozing Aphrodites are frauds. There is no way she could have biceps like that without some elbow grease, and that washboard stomach wasn’t purchased over the internet (even if the boobs were).

My theory is she has a bit on the side – aka a personal trainer. It is the only way to explain how she can afford to waste an hour batting her lashes at the hunk pumping iron by the mirror.

So the question is, are you fit to be seen or seen to be fit?

Alternatively, I could just invest in some waterproof foundation.

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