A girl at the gym - the true story. If someone had told me two years ago, that I would be a regular gym-goer, I'd laugh in their face. I had a pretty firm opinion about these places, and it wasn't a good one: lots of stinky, bulky guys, sweating under the weights, and stocky women with thunder thighs.
I've always considered gym to be "not my style", and I was reluctant to spend money on "decent" gym outfit. Nevertheless, I was still a little jealous of the fit girls, with their supple bodies and springly movements, while my own body was slowly, yet visibly changing for worse with each consumed candy bar. Didn't seem like much - a little roll of fat here and there, a rounder face and hips. In the meantime, though, like most girls, I was torturing myself with fad diets at least a couple a times per year - all the miracle pills, shakes, creams and other similar inventions, which never actually got me even a little closer to the body I wanted to have.
My frustration grew and ideas were running scarse. Visiting the gym was the last resort. I had to force myself and pretend I'm not bothered by the fit, sweaty and sometimes (really) smelly men exercising around me, while I was feeling like an bull in a china shop, not exactly sure what I was supposed to do. Now that I think about it, it might have been a better choice to start out with a girl-only gym. Maybe I wouldn't be as self-conscious. But in my case it was convenience that made me choose that particular gym - co-ed was closer and cheaper. After a couple of weeks I begun to feel more at home, and I've noticed that the frequenters were too busy watching their posture and muscles working in the big mirrors to have an eye for the "noobs".