Working it out

Have you ever wondered what Fat Gladys in Accounts looks like naked? What about Ugly Sheila? Can you imagine what her wobbly flesh looks like without the benefit of that purple polyester trouser suit covering up her nasties? What about Stinky Nigel from Occupational Health? Would you like to see Stinky Nigel clad in Lycra and dripping rancid sweat?

If the answer to all these questions is, "Yes, of course!" then why not join your office gym?

The powers that be have decided that large corporate organisations need to have a gym onsite to keep their staff physically fit, motivated and in tip-top condition. Or, in my case, barely able to breathe, limping significantly and vaguely nauseous at the sight of Fat Gladys getting out the shower and talcum powdering her privates right in front of me.

The exercise programme is not going brilliantly. My trainer set me some tasks to be peformed three times a week:

• 10 mins run at 9.5 km per hour (dropping to 6km per hour every two minutes for 30 seconds before ramping the speed up again)
• 5 mins on the rower on setting number 8 (whatever that means)
• Various weights, none of them heavier than 15 kg.

Laura's Day 1 in the gym:

• Ran 4 minutes on that stupid fucking treadmill and nearly fucking died
• Did two minutes on the rower and realised I was quite literally getting nowhere
• Did some hurty weights
• Was grossed out by naked colleagues wandering round the changing room, powdering themselves fruitfully. Does this count as sexual harrassment?

Laura's Day 2 in the gym:

• Ooh, I'm a bit busy at work today, I can't really spare the time

Laura's Day 3 in the gym:

• Ooh, I put my tracksuit bottoms in the wash and they're not quite dry yet.

Laura's Day 4 in the gym:

• Ooh, I'm feeling a bit peaky. Better not.

It's going well. If they could just stop the nakedness...