If you remember, sometime back I had said that I was aiming for a Shah Rukh Khan like six-pack. Well, the girl colleague for whom I was working out quit her job a month back and got married last week. I came to know of her marriage after a fortnight of working out…and ever since have lost all interest in a six-pack.
Last week, after being called ‘a portly bastard` by a software engineer in my office, I decided to join a gym. One day later, I took a Health Club subscription at PowerHouse, a gym in Sector 56 of Gurgaon (if you come there too, and if you aren`t well built…buzz me…would like to meet up).
The first thing that stuck me is the fact that a gymnasium is very much like a bar. Till one is out of the bar, one doesn`t know how drunken one is…and when it comes to the gymnasium…till one doesn`t come out one doesn`t know how tired he/she is. Perhaps, that`s why on my first day at the gym, the bouncers had to carry me home because I couldn`t walk after two hours on the treadmill. Reminded me of the day I had my first beer – a bunch of friends had to carry me home.
If you have never been to a gym before, let me tell you that all those Bollywood / Tollywood songs choreographed inside gyms, where the heroine wears Jane Fonda-like spandex and works out on the cross trainer (see pic) isn`t true. For example, in my gym I have only seen four women train and I suspect their weights to be 78 kgs, 81 kgs, 73 kgs & 92 kgs respectively. I will tell you more about the only pretty girl (vital stats: 32-25-34) who visits the gym, in a separate post.
On my first day, I was embarrassed with my physique. A dark complexioned, 165 cms tall mass of body which was 34 cms wide in the middle…didn`t look good standing next to six feet tall, well built men wearing tight Reebok-sponsored uniforms. Thanks to my gym buddy (who, unfortunately happens to be a guy thus stealing the shine out of a sauna / steam bath) I came to know that these guys were the gym employees. With great difficulty (I always find it difficult to speak to people I am envious of) I tried to strike a conversation with a person who could have easily been a GladRags Mega Model: “Hi, I am Rajan. And I know nothing of gyming….can you help me get a six pack?”
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“Me…Santosh.” [Name changed because he is huge and can hurt me]
“Great Santosh! So what should I do first?”
“Treadmill. Cross Trainers. Weight Training. We get six pack.” Santosh seemed to be crisp in his replies.
Wow…so handsome people talk less. I made a mental note to talk less and in the process look like a model. Two days later when I walked up to him and asked: “So, which machine do I use if I have to burn the fat around my waist first?” he responded: “Difficult question. You know Hindi?”
Thinking ever since – would pretty girls prefer a tall, well built mannequin or go for dark, 165 cms tall, 34-inches around the waist type?