At the gym once more...
If I am to create gay metaphysics, the gym would be a site of pilgrimage, where weary pilgrims come of from all over the place to "replenish" their depleting "morale".
In this case morale would be defined as shrinking muscles mass.
And after a lot of shrinking, and a lot drinking, and consuming all kinds of comfort food muscles gave in for other kinds of body tissue, Adipose body tissue, namely fat.
All this ice-cream had to go some where, one bitch told me.
And it did.
So after a three months hiatus, one month for a broken foot, and two months just sheer cowardice I decided it was time to "hit" the gym and show those Adipose tissues whose boss.
And of course realizing that would eventually increase my chances for a potential mate, I cowered once more before the tyrannical gay aesthetics and gave in, compromised all my ethical conflicts with objectifying the male body and decided what the hell a girl has to do what she has to do.
But this won't be easy. I walked in, and despite the fact that I am familiar with the space, the pattern of exercises, my alleged trainer (for I never really had a trainer, my antisocial aloof disposition around strangers makes people think I am a stuck up bastard, which might be partly true. I just find it a little difficult to communicate with total strangers about the best exercise regimen for my body. Its a little too personal. And the trainer does not have the same authority as a physician. I would not have the same problem with a physician. The body discourse is too medicalized to be considered private or personal) told me I should take it easy, and assigned me to the "general" category.
This corresponds to the "untouchables" in the Indian caste system.
The lowest form of human life in the gym.
But what do I expect?
I never liked the gym or physical exercise. I was always busy analyzing the space and the individuals who embody the space and the kind of interactions that take place within this space.
Exercise itself, despite being psychologically beneficial, never really interested me. At all.
Surprisingly it did not contribute to my sense of physical well-being or help my body image disorders.
But so far it was the best mood stabilizer I have seen in a long time.
Somehow it calmed me down and mitigated my perpetual sense of crisis.
And if it helps with my figure then that ain't half bad, is it?
In this case morale would be defined as shrinking muscles mass.
And after a lot of shrinking, and a lot drinking, and consuming all kinds of comfort food muscles gave in for other kinds of body tissue, Adipose body tissue, namely fat.
All this ice-cream had to go some where, one bitch told me.
And it did.
So after a three months hiatus, one month for a broken foot, and two months just sheer cowardice I decided it was time to "hit" the gym and show those Adipose tissues whose boss.
And of course realizing that would eventually increase my chances for a potential mate, I cowered once more before the tyrannical gay aesthetics and gave in, compromised all my ethical conflicts with objectifying the male body and decided what the hell a girl has to do what she has to do.
But this won't be easy. I walked in, and despite the fact that I am familiar with the space, the pattern of exercises, my alleged trainer (for I never really had a trainer, my antisocial aloof disposition around strangers makes people think I am a stuck up bastard, which might be partly true. I just find it a little difficult to communicate with total strangers about the best exercise regimen for my body. Its a little too personal. And the trainer does not have the same authority as a physician. I would not have the same problem with a physician. The body discourse is too medicalized to be considered private or personal) told me I should take it easy, and assigned me to the "general" category.
This corresponds to the "untouchables" in the Indian caste system.
The lowest form of human life in the gym.
But what do I expect?
I never liked the gym or physical exercise. I was always busy analyzing the space and the individuals who embody the space and the kind of interactions that take place within this space.
Exercise itself, despite being psychologically beneficial, never really interested me. At all.
Surprisingly it did not contribute to my sense of physical well-being or help my body image disorders.
But so far it was the best mood stabilizer I have seen in a long time.
Somehow it calmed me down and mitigated my perpetual sense of crisis.
And if it helps with my figure then that ain't half bad, is it?
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