So… as some of you might know, I’m on a bit of a health kick this year. No, it’s a not a lame new year’s resolution, but a serious attempt at self preservation as I stare 30 in the eye with shitty life habits.
Three months ago I gave up drinking Coke. About a month ago pop was cut out and more recently I’ve limited my intake of sugar to less than 40 grams a day.
So, now I want to go to the gym. I want to “look good naked”, as Kevin Spacey said in American Beauty.
But I don’t know the first damn thing about gyms. What do you lift? What do you pull? What’s with all these scary, intimidating people who look at me?
I headed to Fitxpress at 353 Gilmore Ave N here in Burnaby.
I mustered up the courage to go upstairs and inquire about a membership earlier this week, only to find an empty counter. No staff member was present. Just a half glass of orange juice and a copy of Glamour magazine. I wait. I look. No staff person.
Seems kinda sketchy.
I go back today and find a quiet, pasty brunette. I stand at the counter. There were about 10 seconds of awkward silence before she looked at me.
“I’m here to inquire about joining this gym,” I say.
She glares at me for a second, puts down her magazine and hands me a little price card.
The prices are high.
There are giant $19.99 per month signs all over the front of the club and on all their material, but when I read the semi-fine print you have to sign a contract. Monthly fees range from $24.99 to $36.95 depending on the length of your contract, but you also have to pay a huge enrollment fee on top of that. There’s also an annual “club enhancement fee” of $20. They expect you to set up some direct desposit arrangement with your bank to save you the incovenience of dealing with staff people, who are dead ringers for Carol Beer of Little Britain fame:
I explain that I don’t know a darn thing about gyms and ask about orientation sessions.
“Well, there is a lady who does it but I’d have to call her and she’ll get back to you,” she says, angrily eyeing her pink cell phone.
“Well, could I sign up for those orientaiton sessions then..”
“She’d have to call you,” she finally says. “But I think all her classes are full.”
“So in order to even have that woman call me back, I need to sign this contract and fork out a big membership fee?” I ask.
“That’s correct,” she says. “Insurance and all.”
Ugh! I’m not giving them money – they’re unpleasant. I’m going to go to the community centre.