The exercise world is a tricky one, but having joined a gym and been to 3 whole classes, I will be your guide. It is very important to fit in when attending an exercise class. The things to wear are black leggings and an artfully slouchy, extremely expensive top type thing. I have achieved this look by simply locating a rather grubby, shapeless pajama top, and sticking my shoulder through the arm hole. I cannot tell you how impressed the other class-goers are. (I mean this literally. The shoulder through the arm hole thing means turning is very difficult, and I have hugely compromised my peripheral vision).
Once in the class, stand next to a woman who looks the least physically intimidating. (Inexplicably, several women rushed to stand next to me, but I assume that was simply because they wanted to know where I had bought my excellent exercise top).
At all points in the class, maintain eye contact with the teacher. This will not only tell everyone else in the class that you are here to exercise, but will also help to prevent terrible mishaps such as a wrong-direction lunge, or a misunderstanding of the phrase ‘and release’.
Even the shortest exercise class feels like practical evidence for Einstein’s theory of relativity. I have found it helpful, therefore, to wear a watch, just to reassure oneself that time is continuing to pass, despite all evidence to the contrary. Unfortunately, the only working watch I currently own has somehow set itself to beep every half hour, a constant high-pitched obstacle to my very first instruction: fit in.
(This sentence reminds me of the delightful article by Suzanne Moore, who, upon discovering that the Fire Brigade had issued a notice to men ‘Not to put their penises in toasters’, wrote about the endless excuses people make when admitted to hospitals with household items inside them. ‘It fell in’ is apparently the most-given excuse, rendering the domestic world a place much more fraught with danger than anyone previously realized).
unfashionablylost 