Meet Me at The Gym!

Lahoris have found a new hobby and they like to call it ’working out’ which is definitely cooler than plain old exercise. Everybody who’s anybody goes to a health or fitness club, a fancy name for plain old gym where you work up a sweat and try to get the rolls of fat off. It’s the place to be seen, the place to meet up and gossip, to check out those of the opposite sex…oh and to exercise too, of course!

Had a hard day at work? Go to the gym and let off some steam! Had a tough exam? Go to the gym and work off all the frustration! Had a messy breakup with your soul mate? Go to the gym and find yourself someone new! Want to know whether Saira is going out with Junaid or Asim? Go to the gym and get the latest gossip! Want to know whether short shirts and three-quarter sleeves are in? Go to the gym and you’ll be sure to find out!

Yup, you got it. Ladies and gentlemen, the gym is where it’s AT nowadays. It attracts an interesting crowd and the networking you can do there really reaffirms my opinion that everyone is a marketing guru deep down inside. Between the sweating and panting, there’s soul searching, exchange of company gossip, complaints of the jamadarni’s ‘kaam-chori’, finalization of business deals and postponement of golf games.

You will be sure to find all sorts at the gym: hand shaking, back slapping uncles with towels around their necks, trying to recreate a slice of their youth; over made-up, puffy haired aunties with mascara running down their cheeks, eyeing each other’s clothes from the corner of the eye; the shalwar-kameez-sneaker brigade with dupattas tied like school uniform bands at the hip, happily running on the treadmill; twenty-somethings in slinky gear, getting high on their perfect midriffs and biceps – all of them individuals who are looking for an innovative trend, a new entertainment in their lives, a way to offset the effects of Lahore’s late nights and the guilt of eating too much greasy food.

Fitness freaks have existed for a long time, but this latest group of ’gymmers’ is a new breed all together in Lahore. They go to the gym to be seen and to socialize. The crowd is highly entertaining and a few days in the gym are enough to know everyone’s life story.

There’s always an Obese Aunty who discusses other people’s lives while working up a horrendous amount of sweat and odor on the treadmill. "Did you hear about Asma’s daughter’s divorce? Haiiii I was so shocked," is a standard sentence. She has socializing down to a fine art, so much so that she has taken up not only ’gymming’ but also yoga, aerobics and swimming because she knows that’s where the crowd goes nowadays. Of course, this does not take away from the fact that her body shape doesn’t change, no matter how much she exercises, perhaps because right after gym she goes to her social gatherings, which inevitably involve food, food, and more food. Over endless cups of coffee (with cream and sugar) and samosas, she then discusses all the gym gossip she has managed to gather!

Then of course there’s always a Perpetually Made up Aunty in every gym who has a rock hard body and is damn proud of it. Her body, like a bottle of Jean-Paul Gautlier perfume, is in its prime despite the fact that she’s hitting fifty. Her hair is streaked and colored to perfection and fluffed just right and her glowing skin has a suspicious tightness that can only be achieved with the help of a Botox injection. Everything about her is perfect, from her makeup to her Reebok sneakers and even the color of her nail polish. It’s a wonder her foundation remains intact while she pounds away on the machines!

And let’s not forget the Macho Guy who constantly checks himself out in the mirrors. Friends of all shapes and sizes always surround him and he is forever advising them on how to use the various machines. He looks at women around him and unconsciously his biceps curl, his chest thrusts forward and his chin takes on a jaunty angle. He is the guy who always screams out ‘YES!!’ when he completes each set of exercise, and incidentally he is also the one who always asks any female who ventures near the dumbbells if she needs help. He is usually turned down but that does not faze him. Macho Guy doesn’t walk – he struts; and if you keep your eye on him for less than even a minute, you will see the inevitable muscle flexing and the proud accompanying grin, whenever he catches his reflection in the mirror. He’s the veritable Johnny Bravo of the gym and there’s no escaping him, for he will try to show his strength and dexterity to both men and women, whenever he gets even the remotest chance.

To add mirch to masala, there’s the female counterpart, Perky Girl. She saunters in, jaunty ponytail flip-flopping prettily. She oozes confidence and smugness. Her body-hugging Nike spandex top and loose-but-loose-enough-to-hide-perfect-thighs tracks sculpt a flawless body. With a pristine white towel folded casually around her neck, she makes her way into the gym, knowing every eye is on her. Lazily she stretches both arms over the head, then bends at the waist and touches her feet, her little bottom perkily pointing to the ceiling. Perky Girl is the bane of every woman’s existence, and several eyes can be seen rolling, and smug ‘we know what she is but we won’t say it out loud’ smiles are exchanged.

Perky Girl usually sets off Fat Girl who is busy heaving weights, panting and sweating, enviously glaring at the perfect thighs on her rival. Fat Girl exercises like there’s no tomorrow but for some insane reason, it doesn’t show. Maybe it’s because she loves food - she certainly talks about it enough. She is probably the friendliest soul around, sharing brave stories of her many weight losses and gains over the last couple of years. She is every girl’s confidante and every boy’s best friend and can often be seen conversing and networking all over the gym, flashing her big, friendly smile.

Of course, no gym is complete without the Stud Uncle who thinks he’s God’s gift to (young) women. He wears fitted a muscle-shirt and shorts, hangs out with the young guys and eyes all women he can possibly manage to squeeze into his line of vision. He stops every once in a while to flirt with the receptionist and also does a little jig in the middle of the gym when his favorite song comes up. He is fifty going on fifteen.

And then, naturally, there are those for whom the gym is a home away from home, the opponents of the social-gym-butterflies: the Real Fitness Freaks. These people have nothing but contempt for the crowd who has taken up ‘gymming’ as a social exercise. These are the diligent men and women who will do anything to get the newcomers out on their not-so-pretty backsides. Silent, restrained, focused – that’s how the Real Fitness Freaks can be described. They don’t look around, nor do they talk to anyone; they hardly even smile. Their entire focus is their body and how many miles they can run on the treadmill. Very infrequently they address the personal trainers but that too only when it’s completely necessary, otherwise they are content with their headphones and Walkman.

Aside from these regulars, which can be easily classified, there are those who saunter in and out every couple of days, who can fall in any of the described categories or can be a whole new category in themselves. Nevertheless, whichever machine you approach, whichever corner you venture towards, you will be sure to be entertained: there will always be an aunty discussing Chunnu or Munnu’s school performance, an uncle talking of the stock market, a young guy dreaming out loudly of the latest car, a group of giggly teenagers discussing adolescent stuff, a housewife asking for the recipe of Aloo Qeema. The gym’s a great place to go to if you want to catch the vibe and the shades of Lahore. So, pack your gear, put on those sneakers and make your way to the nearest fitness club – you never know whom you might meet or what you might learn there!