Never Trust Men Who Wear Ankle Socks.

[Edit: I wrote this last summer, and now I'm posting it to hold on to the memory of sunshine and humidity. It's 15 degrees outside now. Since when did the South become Antarctica?]

       I went to the gym today. Sigh. I don't really know why. I s'pose I'm quite a slovenly person really. The peak of my exercise is walking from my house to the car and from the car to the school. That's as far as it goes for me. I'm not really bothered. I'm not really obese or anything...It just sometimes hurts to move.
       So I basically thought: Enough's enough. I'm gonna be a gym person. I'm gonna be one of those people who go to the gym and always look healthy and...and crimson cheeked, and it's gonna be brilliant! My heart's gonna love it.
        But as you can imagine it didn't go to plan. Firstly, people who look like me do not look good in sportswear. Y'know, that's a given. I look good in skinny jeans and tight T-shirts. Sportswear does me no justice at all. I look short and stumpy, and I just look out of place. And as soon as I break into any kind of movement my hair just...Just turns into this horrible horrible afro. I just... I didn't look right! I wasn't feeling it.
        I started off on the running machines, and I thought I was really cool. I was loving it. I was feeling the burn. I was pumping iron, and I was effing loving it. The pounds were dripping off me! I could feel it! Might've been sweat, but whatever. I was... I was brilliant.
        But then, I caught a glimpse of myself in the huge wall covering mirrors they have in the gym. Why have mirrors in the gym? That's the LAST place I'd want to see myself. In the gym, when I'm all sweaty faced, hunched over a running machine in the middle of a heart attack. I don't wanna see a reflection of myself in the gym! I don't know why they'd put mirrors in the gym. Just put me off, that did. So I was all self-conscious.
        So I decided the running machine wasn't for me. I wanted to do something a little less strenuous. I thought I'd go build these bad boys up *flexes nonexistent biceps* on the weight machine. Naturally, I was attracted to the most complex and fun-looking of the machines. It was the one where you had to sort of sit up on the high thing and hoist yourself up. I didn't have a clue what I was doing on it. I was just sort of tinkering around clattering, and this man came over! I remember him specifically, because he had long fingernails. Y'know he worked there, fair enough, but he had long fingernails! You never trust a man with long fingernails. That's a little bit of advice I'll give to you. There's something about it. Something quite calculated about people with long fingernails. I dunno, they've just got a touch of evil about them, I think. But, no, I just can't trust men with long fingernails. Get 'em cut! Have a bit of pride in your appearance. It's just ugh *shudders*. It's weird. It's not right.
         Long fingernails and men who wear ankle socks. I don't want my ankles exposed if I'm wearing socks! I like them covered up in my socks! I don't see the need to show off your ankles when you're wearing sneakers and jeans. I don't know. Maybe I'm just to sensitive to things like that.
           Long story short, I ended up sort of breaking the machine, and walking out in shame. *shakes head* I don't know how I'm able to embarrass my self in the most ordinary of situations. But I won't be going to the gym again. Put it like that. Maybe I should start kickboxing.

A little trick though, if you do like going to the gym: If you're on the weight machine and you're quite weak like myself; put it on the lightest setting while you're using it, and as you leave just knock the pin down to the highest weight. So whoever goes on there after you thinks you're some kind of Incredible Hulk. :)

# of times the word 'fingernails' was used: six.