Now, I have been gadding about a lot with the dog but I don’t seem to be able to get rid of the excess weight. So, I passed a sports centre near me and decided to go in.

It was like running the gauntlet, because I had to squeeze in between these bodybuilders who looked more like gorillas ready to attack! Some of them heard my Irish accent speaking dutch so I was inundated with jokes about the Irish and I laughed along with them. Dare I not? It seemed to be a very close-knit club and everybody knew each other.

A sort of social network for bodybuilders. But where did I fit in? I only chose this particular club because of its very cheap rates and its so near my home.

A personal trainer was allocated to me to show me around. He came out of nowhere and funnily enough he was a very small lean man compared to all the other big musclebound guys. He put me through my paces and two hours later, I emerged sweating profusely but alive.

I was offered a cup of tea and sat at the juice bar sandwiched between two enormous beefy men. These guys seemingly were professional bodybuilders and did a lot of bouncer work on the side! They started to advise me on how to lose qeight quickly. Tubs of fat burners were produced from behind the bar. They are illegal in the Netherlands, brought in from Belgium. I politely refused to try them because (as it happens), I do have a thyroid problem and I could end up having serious health problems. They seemed to be on a mission now on how to get me fit very quickly without killing me!

They brought me around to the serious machines (as they called them) and lay me down on this huge bench and I had to lift weights of up to 20 kilos for each arm. They advised me to take it easy. Only do 40 of each!!! Then they literally lifted me up onto this bar. I was hanging like a monkey (well keep it in the family) and I had to lift my body upwards with my arms. They said it was great for the biceps. But unfortunately, I could not move. The last arm work I did was lifting a pint of Guinness on St. Patrick’s night!

So, they removed me (not very gracefully, I may add) and marched me onto the next instrument of torture. I protested (feebly) and they landed me on this huge state of the art machine that was for strengthening your thighs. I told them that my thighs were the least of my problems. They were big enough! I was screaming for help (in my head) when thank god, my little trainer saw me. He asked me why I was still there and I looked at Ned and Ted and he laughed hysterically. He told me that these two were famous for taking the mickey out of new people. I laughed almost hysterically as well but I couldn’t.

Every muscle in my body hurt. They deposited me back at the juice bar and Ned gave me a pat on the shoulder which happened to send me flying and I bumped into two more gorillas. Luckily, they all were in on the joke and laughed along.

I made it to the dressing room and changed rapidly. I hobbled home and Mozart greeted me with his tail wagging furiously. He has to have his walkies. Sorry Mozart, enough exercise for me for the day but I knew I had to go out with him. I couldn’t move gracefully for three days but I did lose three kilos. Not from the exercise mind but because my stomach hurt so much. Maybe the guys were right after all.

Where am I going now? I am going back to the gymn. I am a fully fledged member now and nothing’s going to stop me…

Niamh
 

If you wish to comment or express an opinion about this article please e-mail the editor@TheHagueOnLine.com