Hello peeps! Hope your all enjoying your chunky sunday papers, a gravy drenched carvery mountain and undoubtedly some international football palaver, so I hear.
I love the euro games. Yes I do.
Not so much the tuning into watch the amateur dramatics of 22 multi-millionaires. Nor the free-house, larger over my head, elbow to the sternum, sardine scenario.
Instead Im raving about the desolation of the gym. woop! woop!
Not only do I get to stretch my glutimus-maxmimus, without Mr.Meat Brains squat thrusting approximately 30 centimetres behind me. I can also perform my circuit, minus the vexation of watching the unnecessarily topless squad, swagger before the mirrors and sweat all over my machines.
The gym seems to attract all sorts of weird and wonderful creatures, big and small, sleazy to clueless and those that just hang around naked a little to long.
But this years most annoying awards go to....
The over enthusiastic personal trainer:
The key word here is personal. Ive never booked this guy, in fact ive never even made eye conatct with the guy, yet he seems to have taken it upon him self to join me for small talk approximately 10minutes into a treadmill sprint.
Take a hint....When women workout, we don't want to talk. So if were competing with Hussein Bolt and rocking headphones,
we definitely don't want to talk.
.....Planking on the power plate is quite gruelling enough without you whispering sweet bollocks in my ears, about how your new to the area and don't have many friends. The only thing your likely to get from me, is a medicine ball to the face.
The Goddess: Theres one at every gym. She's been on the treadmill for the entire duration of your workout and still hasn't broken a sweat. Not a hair out of place, not a pick of orange peel insight and breasts a few sizes larger than ought to be legal. She's generally got great banter with all the guys and staff and a smile so dazzling, you'll be tempted to through your brain beneath the bench press.
The grunter: Only authorised if your Serena Williams. End of story.
The Couple: OK, so whilst I arrive and depart with my boyfriend, I have no idea of his whereabouts for the whole 90 minutes. On the other hand you have Mr. Universe and his 90lb perma-tanned other half, high-fiveing and spotting each other all the way to puke-ville.
& finally my most horrifying gym moment 101...
Exhausted and delirious, I make my way from the evil interval training cross trainer to the changing rooms. They smell a little funkier than usual and oh my do they look different too.
And there he is, freshly showered, foot on stool, shaving his testicles before me.
*hangs head in shame*.
Hopefully he too takes a little interest in "the beautiful game" & wont be gymnasium bound tonight as I go to burn that brunch.
Moving slightly on....
Check out this slice of sublime, black and white wilderness-ness, from my incredible recent shoot with the amazing James Davidson.
PS. headbands should be universally banned from gyms.
WithLove Raphaella x