I am a gym fein. Nothing gives me a new perspective and drive like being registered at a gym. So when I cut my membership before Ramadan, it sorta got to me. Then after Ramadan there was Eid (one week) and then Tartus (one week) and then I got sick (one week) and one week spread out in between. So today I finally said enough is enough and dragged my ass (I drove actually one of the perks of finally having my Syrian license) down to the gym where I registered.
The stair-master murdered my thighs who, had they voices, would be screaming profanities at me. The chest-press effectively killed my chest and my arms are like lead from the free weights.
Bliss. Pure, sweet, unadulterated bliss.
The prices though are sky-high. Back in Canada, Spa Lady was what? 25 bucks a month every day? And you got six months off for paying up front and another 6 for using a visa or master card.
Here I pay 2000 sp (50$) a month for 13 sessions. A month. As in every other day for freakin’ fifty bucks.
But, meh. When it comes to the gym, money can buy me happiness. Or, more accurately, it can buy me an outlet for all the pent up stress…. which amounts to me being happy. And peace of mind for my friends and family.