I don’t think mirrors in the gym are appropriate – I find them to be rude and offensive little bastards.
I was at the gym for a whole freaking hour today. I genuinely imagine myself to be that amazing woman that walks out with a swagger on her tight buns and a smile on her face.
But no…today I sadly caught sight of myself in the little bastard mirror and realised that I am that woman; you know the one, half her hair in a ponytail as the rest is ‘sweat stuck’ to her face, lots of dollops of sweat in unseemly places, wearing the lycra pants from Lorna Jane that actually look completely demoralised from holding her stomach in for the last hour, the mismatched top, beetroot red exhausted face and waiting for some smart arse to call an ambulance.
I’m the one in yoga class that always looks uncomfortable while bent over in some crazy head up my bum pose – the idea of a rabid pop off frightens me. I’m the one that’s got all three kids in the crèche who pretends she can’t hear them fighting. The one that secretly hates the hot pink neon lycra wearing fitness bitches that look at me with a mixture of sympathy and disdain. The one that uses the towel at the gym, not only to wipe her face but to hide the pathetic distance I’ve run on the treadmill and the one that still has no clue if Bodypump is a class or a sexual proposition.
Yup I’m that one and I daresay I’m not alone. So if you see me in my mismatched lycra, carrying 10 extra kilos, my hair ‘sweat stuck’ tn my face and smiling like an endorphin enriched crazy woman…Don’t be an a-hole and call an ambulance. Be happy that I actually made it to the gym and please please please, block my view of the mirror.