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Meanwhile: The musings of Englishman, Simon Jones. The notions and potions of Simon Jones.
meanwhile back in reality Simon Jones, UK, Boston, Bebington, Wirral
 

I haven't written anything in ages. Where does time go I wonder. You know what it's like, you look back and BANG, a month has passed, before you know it BANG, two months gone , right there!

Actually I joined a gym last month, so that explains where a good proportion of my free time has gone. With the membership costing me nearly fifty pounds a month I am determined to get my money's worth out of it, and so far I've been going about three times a week. It's pretty good fun actually. I have to say the first couple of weeks were awful, I'd go and do my workout program damn near killing myself in the process. But I quickly saw my body tone up and I have to confess that I found that very rewarding.

Now I sail through my given workout, so I have added some new machines to the program. I'm currently trying to regain my six pack which was, as I recall, only ever a four pack. In fact after just one week of doing that new 'six pack machine' I have seen a difference, though I'm concerned that my four pack may only be a two pack now.

I have to confess though that the whole fitness freak lifestyle has remained just the other side of my understanding. Like everyone I see people jogging and stuff and I think to myself why would anyone do that. Joining the gym was something I did more for the relaxation factor than anything else. I have finally gotten to a point where I can afford to be a member of such a place, so why not. I never expected for one minute to actually get as much enjoyment out of punishing myself as I apparently do.

Perhaps if I am not careful I'll become a gym junkie? One of those people who spends their whole life in a tracksuit drinking from a squeezable plastic bottle and running everywhere instead of walking. I mean for goodness sake I have even changed my diet to try and cut out some of the fatty stuff. Daft really when you consider that I am a slim guy to start with anyway.

I must been vanity I suppose. I've never considered myself to be vain, but here I am talking about wanting to have a six pack, going to the gym in search of the elusive 'perfect body' and putting myself through pain in order to gain what? I pretty much wear Gap clothes all the time which are on the whole all baggy, so it's not like anyone would see my 'Action Man' body should I actually get one.

I don't consider myself to be vain but I wonder if those who know me think I am? However that could be a can of worms right there couldn't it. To start pondering how others consider me. I tend not to think about it really, and if asked I'd say I don't care. But do I? Sure I do, we all do, though of course we all say we don't.

For example, Louise, one of the hairdressers from downstairs, today suggested that I was like Alex Sibley from Channel 4's Big Brother. I was curious as to what she meant, so I invited her to elaborate. I wish I hadn't because she ended up, in a roundabout manner, saying that I'm camp. CAMP!!! I protested but then, as so often happens, the rest of the hairdressers all got involved in the conversation.

Pretty soon the entire shop was saying how they could quite easily imagine me as a gay man! Pam, another hairdresser, said she could imagine me as a "trolley dolly" while Wenda, the boss, agreed that I would make "a good woman!!!"

Now it's fair to say that I am not exactly a 'mans man,' I'm not into football (though I am watching the world cup), I don't like getting my hands dirty, I know nothing about cars and I don't wolf whistle at fine young ladies in short skirts. But camp I am not.

I am fairly sure that if asked my friends would say that I have a finely tuned appreciation for the fairer sex. They would describe me in many ways I'm sure, and I can confidently say that I don't think camp is a word that any of them would use.

But it's out there now. The whole campness thing is lurking in the background of my thoughts. Am I going to become paranoid that I have too much of a spring in my step, or a wiggle in my hips? Is my voice too high? What do I do with my hands when I talk? Is it at possible that I, Simon Jones, have an inner camp guy who is somehow finding ways to make himself seen and heard? Oh God, please no!

Ah what the heck. It doesn't matter what people think anyway does it... or does it?



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