There are all kinds of women you’ll find at the gym. Each of us fighting a battle with our bodies to enslave them. We’re all driven here by different needs- the need to burn off that over-indulgent dessert we stuffed guiltily the night before or sculpt ourselves into more shapely beings.

The scariest of all are the women who resemble Xena the warrior Princess with that fiercely determined rage in their eyes. While the rest of us struggle to stay alive and not collapse, they’re busy conquering new fitness regimes. I sort of love and hate them. Love them because they inspire me with their level of commitment. And hate them..for the very same reason.

Then come the stompers -the weirdos who think that by thumping their feet harder on a treadmill, they could lose weight quicker. They flay their arms about and march on impervious to the glares they’re getting. Umm..ok Godzilla.. you’re just terrorizing the rest of us here.

The drifters are those who spend more time walking about deciding which equipment to use rather than actually using them.  And even when they’re working out, they make sure they’re busy with their phones. It’s fun to watch someone pant on the treadmill while simultaneously dictating a shopping list to their husband. Also, my evilness permits me to like them because they make me feel better about myself..

The ones that reallyyyy get to me are those cellulite-free, Kournikova-legged, flawless women who prance about in spandex outfits that cling to their form. ‘What in God’s name are you doing here?? Get lost, get fat and then come back!!’ is what pretty much runs through your head when you see them.  But then you realize that like everything else you work hard to get, you need to work even harder to keep; which is what they’re doing. Sigh. When will I get there?

I fall into the worst kind- the ‘Sporadic’ category . This means I’ll go running and crunching like crazy for three days in a row. And then feeling extremely satisfied with all the fat I’ve burnt , I will then couch-potato it off for the rest of the week. Then the creeping guilt of my laziness along with the return of my old buddies (calories!!) drags me back to the mill with a fresh fervor. And the cycle begins again.

Despite my attempt to reduce my fellow sweaty counterparts into types, there is a deeper message here.  As I watch all of us doing the same thing- staring in the mirror at our thighs,butt, bust, abs, arms, legs.. etc etc, there’s a common spirit amongst us. We each want something to get smaller, bigger, firmer or disappear altogether! And even though we’re pathetic enough to feel secretly relieved when we see someone fatter than us trudging slowly beside us…We’re each sweating it out towards that common goal- to get hot or stay hot. For ourselves, our men and of course the random stranger who walks by and checks us out.

Oh yeah- and being fit is essential to being healthy. Forgot about that.

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