I look at social media. Then I look at the gym. Then I look back at social media. And then I look back at the gym. Then I look at social media once more. And then I look at the gym once more.
And then I just think: no.
I look at social media: and I see sun-kissed, long eye-lashed*blink-blink*, perfectly toned, model-esque, statu-esque beauties who are absolutely glowing from their workout like they were borne from a ray of sunshine that reflected off the very sands of Bondi Beach (isn’t that where everyone works out?)
Then I look at the gym: I see grey, potentially tinted by fluorescent lighting, obliging human-oids, in bum-fuck suburbia, seriously just trying to get their minimum daily dose of movement as proven by the awkward soiling of their sweat stains under their arms, in their crotch region and 100% outlining the top of their ass crack.
Then I look back at social media: and I see perfectly manicured hands, stylish messy buns, the latest, the cutest, the fun-est matching/sponsored outfits, the cleanest shoes and the whitest smile.
And then I look back at the gym: and I see hands that could have dug a trench that morning, hair that at best looks homeless and at worst looks like you’re on parole, tights that are hopefully not too see through – it’s a good bloody day in the office if the worst you see is the outline of your clacker and not the actual internal goings-on, shoes that probs needed replacing 18-months ago and honestly – I haven’t seen that many smiles at the gym where I can see someone’s teeth. The fuck is displaying a toothy grin while working out? That’s just disconcerting – or are you just shitting yourself?
I have surprisingly seen worse things.
Then I look at social media once more: and every second, of every minute of every breath of said workout is captured as we become privy to the inner workings, thoughts, feelings, emotions, beliefs, #booty selfie, #selflove quote, food diary, selfie with equally attractive person at the gym right there on their Insta feed, Insta story, Insta TV. As. It. All. Happens.
And then I look at the gym once more: and I see a gym check-in on FB because you could win a protein shaker and a pair of socks. Oh and the Simon the Cat Refuses To Dog video – because that is still the best single damn thing on the internet.