Dear LA Fitness…..


 

Thank you for the impressive 3,000th email offering me reduced membership of your club in London. While I appreciate receiving any mail (attention-seeker that I clearly am), I won’t be taking up your offer for a variety of reasons, some of which I am pleased to explain here.

Your club is too far away from my office. By about six miles. The jogging required to get to and from your fitness emporium would render me so breathless that I would expire impaled on the closest cross-trainer to the door. The blood pressure rise induced by my trying to get there and back plus exercise within my non-existent lunch hour could send the mercury spurting skywards.

Your clientele do not eat enough cakes. In fact, on passing your window I have never seen anyone with a doughnut or egg custard tart resting next to their treadmills. These people are all at least half my size before they start and while you may see this as incentive, I see it as taking the piss.

I discovered in a changing room this arvo that I can pretty much achieve the same “rippled torso” look with a too-tight set of Spanx and a pair of bamboo kebab skewers, thereby saving the monthly membership fee and ritual humiliation.

I have issues with lunchtime nudity. Especially in the steam room. I cannot stop myself imagining that I am inhaling damp pubes and other unmentionables into my lungs while my pores ooze out my life force into the gaseous fug.

I have calculated that I can buy eighty four Tesco cheese scones or forty large Starbucks skinny lattes for the price of one month’s membership to LA Hell. A spin class will only last 45 minutes whereas I am still wearing that cheese scone somewhere around my bingo wing for several weeks later. More bang for my buck, if you will, and infinitely safer than being bucked off a spin bike.

Finally, when sending emails it is good to check the spelling of someone’s name. My name is Stratton, not Strap-On.

I wish you every success with your membership recruitment but frankly would rather shove a pine-cone up my bottom sideways than join a gym.

Yours sincerely….

 

Photo credit: gymcompany.co.uk

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About pigletinapoke

I am a forty-something married mum of two, working in London and commuting a crazy amount of hours so I can enjoy living at the coast at weekends! I'm into netball, jointly coaching and running a successful ladies club. I also sail whenever I get the chance and took part in the Trans-Atlantic leg of the Clipper Round The World yacht race in 2009. I like movies, particularly stuff by Nancy Meyers in whose set designs I want to spend my life. I devour novels, biographies and anything to do with self-improvement. I like to drive fast and live slightly dangerously, attempting to experience everything and everywhere before my time is up. That's me in a nutshell - I hope you enjoy my blog. If you would like to use any of my articles or the pics, I would appreciate very much if you could ask me first. Never known to refuse to date. Thanks!

Posted on August 26, 2011, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 13 Comments.

  1. Haha. Please actually send that to them!

  2. This has made me laugh out loud! Something I sorely need at the moment. Thanks you for putting a smile back on my face again.

  3. Absolutely hilarious. I like to imagine that you really truly are going to post that letter. And if you do, we then want to see the reply!

  4. Yeah i agreed with you.Thanks for sharing .

  5. Do it – send it, I double dare you!! :0)
    (I whole heartedly agree…that’s why I favour food over exercise too!)

  6. Had I been mad enough to even contemplate joining a gym, just the memory of this (quite apart from the utter folly inherent in the core idea) will soon put be back on the right track, scanning the aisles for scones.

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