You finally get the urge to sign up to a gym.  You agree to pay upwards of forty quid a month to experience sweat and pain.  In return the gym agree to give you an induction and three free training sessions with a personal trainer.  You imagine them to be toned, tanned and in perfect shape. 

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Smug Bastard.

I hate exercise, but I also hate the way people say how great they feel after a work out. Oh I had a great work out! I feel good! I feel so refreshed after that work out! What a solid work out! HANG ON. Maybe I’m missing something here, but when I exercise, I feel dreadful. Hot, sweaty, tired, puce. My legs are wobbly. I have a face like an erupting volcano. My stomach is fending off a killer stitch. I’m wiping my brow every ten seconds to prevent yet more salty perspiration from dribbling into my eyeballs. I don’t feel great. I feel fucking awful. And I need a lie down. So stop lying, health freaks.