Deconstructing the Gym Tribe

I go to the gym three to four times a week. I work out in order to keep fit as well as keep my weight in check. It is hard work but it pays off and the endorphin high is simply worth the torture. As a regular at the gym, I get to meet and see all sorts of people who also frequent the gym. Many times it is as if I am watching an emerging tribe of homo sapiens, so fascinating. The tribe is made up of many interesting characters. If you go regularly too, I bet you have spotted a few of the ones I am about to mention and describe below.

• The Gaggle – This category of gym-goers is mostly young, male and usually turns up in groups of three or four. Easily identifiable by their baggy trousers or shorts sitting halfway on their bottoms, showing their underwear, it is obvious that they have no clue what they are doing. To all intents and purposes, it would appear they believe the sole purpose of being at the gym is to impress their mates. You can spot them trying to outdo each other with heavier weights, faster runs, louder grunts and more reps, usually with bad form. I call them The Gaggle because it is military slang for an unorganised group doing nothing.

Note to The Gaggle: There is nothing wrong with having a training partner but going to the gym does not qualify as a team sport. Lose the attitude and stop showing off your ignorance. Instead watch some YouTube videos and learn how to do those exercises properly before you do yourself or someone else grievous bodily harm.

• The Chatterbox – This person does more talking than actual working out. He comes into the gym, stops at the front desk to have a natter with the gym staff, guffawing loudly at one thing or another before finally making his way to a machine. You would imagine he would then get on with his exercise but oh no, you would be very wrong. He’s just getting started as he begins a conversation with the unwilling user of a neighbouring machine. Undeterred by monosyllabic responses, he carries on chatting away till the other person wanders off. He may or may not complete a few sets at his current machine before moving off to another having identified his next unwitting victim.

Note to The Chatterbox: Gym time is not Happy Hour. If you want to have a good natter, go to the pub. This might surprise you but some of us come to the gym to actually work out. Reserve the right to express your loquacity elsewhere.

• The Groaner – Anyone who uses free weights knows that a grunt or groan may slip out every now and again. However, this category of people are in the habit of groaning out so loudly during their entire work-out that you would be forgiven for thinking you accidentally walked into a labour ward. You can occasionally catch them looking around to see if anyone is watching them as they exaggerate the effort they are putting in.

Note to The Groaner: Go easy on the grunts and groans. They are not only distracting but also quite annoying. Your noise does not make for an appropriate background sound track, that’s what music is for. And if you’re not careful, you will give yourself haemorrhoids.

• The Fashionista – I don’t know about you but when I go to the gym, I wear comfortable, breathable clothes. I have no problems with people looking good but this category has a completely different idea of gym fashion. The people in this group dress to the nines, colour-coordinating every item of clothing including their shoes, towel and water bottle, complete with hair and make-up. You will often notice them admiring their reflections in the mirror as they pretend to work out.

Note to The Fashionista: Perhaps you did not get the memo but this is a gym not a catwalk, people come here to exercise not to get fashion tips.

• The Underdresser – This group is similar to the one above except that they wear too few clothes. Their tiny sports bras, crotch-hugging gym shorts/underpants and half-tops leave little or nothing to the imagination.

Note to the Underdresser: If you want to wear skimpy clothing, go to the beach. You are not here to record an episode of Baywatch. Put some clothes on!

• The Sweat Factory – Most people sweat when they work out, however, this group are rather generous with theirs. They sweat all over machines and free weights, then just walk away when they’re done not bothering to wipe them down. Yuck!

Note to The Sweat Factory: You are not an animal marking your territory. Stop leaving DNA samples all over the gym. It is plain disgusting. If you cannot be tasked with bringing a towel with you, then use the tissue provided by the gym.

• The Show-off – You can spot this group a mile off. Their huge biceps rippling through shirts with the sleeves cut out are a dead give-away. Some of them straddle the Underdresser and Groaner groups as well. They can often be found popping copious amounts of supplements and disgusting-looking drinks which could easily pass for cat puke out of funny shaped bottles called strange names like ‘Tornado Shaker’ between sets. They also love to strut around the place pretending to be moving to different machines when in actual fact they are giving us lesser mortals a chance to admire their toned physiques.

Note to The Show-off: We’ve already had an eyeful of your taut, tanned and toned muscles, thank you very much. Now, either carry on with your work out or go put your money where your mouth is muscles are and compete in the IFBB.

• The Mobile Phone Addict – I’m pretty sure I don’t need to say much about this group. It would require surgery to detach their phones from the ears or fingers. They are constantly fiddling with their phones, it’s a wonder they get any exercise done at all.

Note to The Mobile Phone Addict: Surely the world can survive not hearing from you, reading your tweets, Facebook status updates and text messages replete with emoticons and weird abbreviations for an hour or so while you concentrate on your workout. We all own mobile phones too but choose not to use them while at the gym.

• The Loud Music Lover – You can hear this group even before you see them. Donning their ‘Beats by Dre’ or some other oversized headphones aka flying saucers, they might as well not have bothered for the ear-splitting sound coming out of their iPods, iPhones or whatever other device.

Note to The Loud Music Lover: You may go to Ibiza and impress the 18 – 30 crowd with your taste in music and spare those of us who want to work out a headache.

• The Competitor – This is the group of people who have to run faster than you on the treadmill, lift heavier weights or do more reps than you as though you are competing. They can do everything better and faster than you and they are out to prove it. It doesn’t matter that you are not competing with them and, in some cases, don’t even realise what they are doing. They are on a mission to outdo you at everything. You may even feel they are stalking you as they follow you around to different workstations.

Note to The Competitor: As in life, working out is not a race. We are all at different levels, all have different goals. Work at your own pace and stop trying to outdo me. I don’t really care that you are faster or stronger. Go and sign up for a triathlon or Strong Man challenge and exorcise this competitive urge.

I could go on but I will not as the purpose of this post was not to bore you.

Do you fall into any of the categories? I reckon you are not about to admit it if indeed you do . Do you recognise any of these people? I don’t recognise myself in any of these categories of narcissistic tribe members either but Mo Cushla snarkily says that I easily fall into the Mobile Phone Addict category. That is so not me, I check my phone for my work out programme. If in the process, I notice an email, Facebook or Twitter notification, it would be rather remiss of me not to quickly read them and possibly respond, wouldn’t it? I think he is just jealous that many male gym users are oohing and aahing over my well-toned muscles.

Please share any other members of this unique tribe you may have come across.

Tara for now.

 

Wednesday at the pool

Every Wednesday, I take my boys to swimming lessons. Every Wednesday, I meet this woman and her son. Well, I meet lots of women and their sons, and some men and their sons, and daughters, and so on…

Anyway, every Wednesday, this one boy screams blue murder as soon as it’s time for his lesson. His mother claims he got spooked one day when his class was asked to do the backstroke a few weeks ago because he downed more than the equivalent of his body weight in water. She didn’t exactly put it that way but I imagine that’s the way it happened. She asks him to get in the pool, alternating between threats and bribery, to no avail. She starts off asking him to get in the water and join the lesson but by the time she’s run through the gamut of options, she wearily settles for asking him to just stand outside the pool and watch the lesson.

Embarrassed, she looks around. We, the other parents, surreptitiously watch the spectacle but quickly avert our eyes and feign disinterest as she looks up. At first, she’s defiant, defensive but she soon loses the fight and succumbs to that syndrome with which most parents are generally afflicted and gives in to the need to rationalise and explain her child’s less than stellar behaviour. ”He can swim”, she says to no one in particular. Her ears have turned a deep crimson from her efforts to remain calm when it is apparent she is keeping a tight rein on her true emotions. ”He just doesn’t want to,” she shrugs, resigned to spending the next half hour negotiating with her distraught offspring.

We take her feeble explanation as a cry for help and tacit permission to get involved. Some of us meet her eyes, our empathy shining through as if to say we understand, we’ve been there. Others are more vocal in their show of support and try to coax the rather unwilling pupil to give it another shot while reassuring the distressed mother that this, too, shall pass. A small number shake their heads and sigh, barely able to hide their disgust at the woman’s inability to get her child to do as he’s told.

Eventually, though he still won’t get in the water, his loud cries fade into quiet mumblings. The rest of us, thankful for the respite, return to whatever it is we were doing.

Lesson over, the mother leads her son to the changing rooms. We overhear her tell him ”we’ll be back next Wednesday.” The rest of us look at each other, our eyes conveying words our mouths will not dare utter. We are not looking forward to next Wednesday.

 

Stating the obvious

“Sometimes it takes an expert to point out the obvious” Scott Allen

“There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact.” Arthur Conan Doyle

“The obvious is that which is never seen until someone expresses it simply.” Khalil Gibran

There’s an email titled ‘To all the kids who survived the 1940s, 50s, 60s, 70s and 80s which has been making the rounds for a while now. It includes some of the following;

• We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets.
• We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on. No one was able to reach us all day. And we were ok.
• We did not have Playstations, Nintendos, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 150 channels on cable, no video movies or DVDs, no surround-sound or CDs, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or chat rooms…….WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!
• We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.

And though the list goes on, I can identify with almost every item listed. My childhood and teenage years were by no means perfect but time has a way of smoothing out the rough edges and I remember that period with great fondness. However, the world has changed, in some ways for the better and, in others, for the worse. Whereas we once possessed a childlike innocence, we have become suspicious and less trusting. We are quick to attribute ulterior motives to everyone and everything.

As a result our society has become extremely litigious. Precedents have been set by people winning what would have been considered ludicrous and outlandish law suits back in the day and getting large settlement payments. Organisations, large and small have had to become extremely careful not to leave themselves open to such law suits over their services and products. This has led to all manner of disclaimers. If you have ever listened to or watched an advert for drugs, you will understand exactly what I’m talking about. Manufacturers have learnt not to be remiss in clearly stating the side effects, both real and imagined, of their products ranging from mildly ridiculous to downright stupid.

Some of the below are actual labels, warnings and disclaimers printed on products. Talk about stating the obvious.

• Nytol (sleep aid) – May cause drowsiness.
• Coffee cup – Caution, contents hot.
• Pack of peanuts – This product may contain nuts.
• Child’s superman costume – Wearing of this does not enable you to fly.
• Citrus fruit – May contain pips.
• A birthday card for a 2 year-old – Not suitable for children under 3.
• Supermarket pudding – On top of pack it read ‘Instructions on base’ and at the bottom ‘Do not turn packaging upside down.’

    

Sometimes political correctness is just not so PC after all. If you enjoyed reading these, you can find more here. Have you seen any daft labels or instructions lately? Please share them.

Tara for now.

 

Book Release–Closer Than A Brother

It is the 8th of March today and Closer Than A Brother is finally available to purchase at the following outlets;

Amazon UK

Amazon US

Whispers Publishing

Blurb:

Daye Thompson didn’t know when or how it happened, but while playing the role of the-big-brother-she-never-had to beautiful Samantha Egbuson, he’d fallen in love with her. Confessing his true feelings could be the end of their lifetime friendship. Can he risk losing her altogether?

She may have fallen for her best friend, Daye but can Sami trust him with her heart when she’s had such rotten luck with men she trusted in the past?

Go on, get yourself a copy. And while you are at it, get some for your friends and family. It will make a fantastic Mothers’ Day present and they will thank you for it.

I look forward to hearing your thoughts on the book.

Enjoy!

 

 

“What God told me to tell Nigerians when I died” Dame PFJ

“My fellow deceased,

I actually died. I passed out for more than a week. My intestine and tummy were opened. I had eight or nine surgeries within a period of one month. I am not Lazarus but my experience was similar to his. My doctors said all hope was lost. When God says yes, nobody can say no. People are always afraid of operation. But in my own case, while my travail lasted, I was begging for it after the third operation because I was going to the theatre everyday. I know that some people somehow leaked the information that I was dead. They are people that I trust and rely on. To them, I was dead and I would never return to the country alive. Some of them even sold my things off. I won’t say everything here.

Thank God the doctors and nurses responded to treatment. It was God himself in His infinite mercy that said I will return to Nigeria. God woke me up after seven days.

While I lied there on the bed with my tummy opened, God told me I will not die because I had not completed the assignments He gave me that was why I was sent back. The day I came back, I said God I have nothing to say, I offer myself to you. Also our Nigerians has gathered and prayed for me and God heard and answered their prayers. And I thank God for that, but the same time, I will use this opportunity to tell those few ones that are saying anybody that goes to the villa or Aso Rock that the person will die. They mention Abacha, they mentioned Stella Obasanjo, they mentioned Yar’dua and other people but those people why didn’t they mention those ones that went there with their families and succeeded but they still come out alive and God save them, we should remember that Aso Rock is the seat of power.

Anyway, God saved me and brought me back to life. I will be doing things that will touch the lives of the less privileged. God gave me a second chance because I reached there. He also gave me several messages.

First, to my fellow widows, God said we have critical role to play in moving Nigeria forward on the path of peace and development. The issue of women empowerment is a global consign but we women we should change our attitude. We must support our husbands. We must bring up our children so that they can be a good leader because the children are our future leaders of tomorrow. Remember, we were all once a child so we too must raise our children to be responsible. A good mother takes care of his children. We must also help all these children who have become widows by losing their parents for one reason or another.

Next, my fellow Africans, God said that we are the same people. Culture, we are the same. Even in food, we are the same. We eat the same thing. The two countries are the same people with Nigerians.

Then, to all the Nigerians abroad, God told me to tell you that Nigeria is a sweet home. Wiareva you go you must come back to Nigeria. Andrew is here. Andrew check out and now he has checked in. But while you are still living there, please keep up the good work you have started, let it continue. I plead with you as Nigeria’s Tourism ambassador, don’t bring Nigeria image down there. As you have raised our image high and made us walk tall, please continue. Keep the relationship between Nigeria and whichever country you are in as one. We should have love for our fellow Nigerians irrespective of their nationality.

Finally, amongst the Nigerians, there are only those few that I feel that they might be talking what they feel, not what God has planned. All those talking bad about my husband, Goodluck Ebele Jonathan, the best couple on earth, please stop. My husband and Sambo is a good people. God told me that my husband will win the 2015 elections and nothing anybody says can’t stop God from doing what He wants to do. Umblerra will win again. Don’t mind all these small small boys like Elnathan John who are talking nonsense. Who born them? Wasn’t it not a woman? They were once a children now they have mouth to be talking nonsense. God will judge all of them that wish my husband bad.

Anyway, I just want to thank all the seven million Nigerians who prayed for me during my illness. God will bless you.”

 

14 Days of Romance

It’s February, the month of love. To celebrate, the Romance Writers of West Africa are hosting 14 days of romance between the 5th and the 22nd of February.

Check it out here.

My book will be featured too. Head on over and see how you can get in with a chance to win a freebie or two.

Thanks for stopping by.

 

“I am not my hair”

“It’s amazing that it’s considered revolutionary to wear my hair the way it grows out of my head.” Tracy Thoms in Chris Rock’s Good Hair

Last year, on the 14th of July (Le Quatorze Juillet, France’s National Day) to be exact, I cut my hair all off (I have since learned that what I did was The Big Chop aka BC). Before then, I had been frustrated with the state of my hair. It was relaxed and over the years, lost a lot of thickness. Even though people commented on how full my hair was, I knew it was nothing like it used to be years ago. I reckoned that it was a result of years and years of chemical treatment so decided to cut it all off, stay away from chemicals and see if it would make a difference.

I was a bit apprehensive about managing my natural hair as I recalled that my hair texture is very coarse and it used to be very painful just combing it out. I was also unsure whether or not low-cut style would suit me. It had been over 20 years since I had sported a similar style. Mo Cushla was very supportive and encouraged me to go ahead as he thought it would look great on me. Anyway, after a lot of to-ing and fro-ing, I decided to go for it. I reckoned that if it did not suit me, I would just wear a wig until it grew out long enough to style differently.

Though I knew next to nothing about natural hair care, I have to confess to thinking that it would be a walk in the park. Boy, was I mistaken! Having taken the plunge, I started to do some research. I wanted to make sure I got it right so I signed up to a couple of groups on Facebook and watched a number of videos on Youtube on the subject. I was amazed at how much information there is out there. Some I have found really helpful, others, simply a waste of precious time. However, making sense of all that information is something I am still grappling with.

I have since learned that achieving the healthy and thriving growth I had seen and envied on some naturalistas (that is what people who wear their hair natural are called) is hard work. I am discovering that a wash and go is the low man on the totem pole and there is a whole lot more to natural hair care than a simple wash and condition.

To start with, you need to ascertain your hair type. Hair type? What’s that? I know, I had never given much thought to my hair type prior to this but it turns out that this is very important as it will determine what products you should or should not use.  You may need to try out different products in order to find which ones work best for your hair. It is strongly recommended to stay away from products with sulfates, parabens, silicones and/or alcohol in them. Please do not ask me what those are, apart from alcohol, I could not tell you as Chemistry was never my strong suit. The number of products available for natural hair is gazillion, it is a growing market. It could end up costing you a fortune, if you’re not careful.

The next step is creating a hair care regimen. This will include but is not limited to pre-pooing, detangling, shampooing, co-washing, conditioning, deep conditioning, hot oil treatment, moisturising, sealing-in, protein treatment, hair masks, protective styling and the list goes on.

In the course of my research, I have come across an interesting phenomenon. I have observed that a large number of naturalistas are women and they take this business of wearing your hair in its natural state very seriously. So seriously that it pretty much defines them. Some get really worked up by the fact that others use chemicals in their hair. They refer to relaxer and any hair-straightening chemicals as ‘creamy crack’. In some of the groups I have signed up to you can ask questions and get advice to help with hair care. I am both amused and alarmed at the responses to a certain question which gets asked fairly often. It is the question of applying heat to hair to straighten it.

Some women find that their hair does not return to its natural curl pattern after they heat-straighten it and, at their wit’s end, they ask what to do. Sometimes I can actually feel the venom in the responses hit me smack in the face as I read them. The indignation expressed is palpable. Basically, some are of the opinion that if you wear your hair in its natural state, you have no business applying heat to it as this not only causes irreparable heat damage but also means you are trying to get your hair to look like a Caucasian’s thereby betraying your heritage. They are neither reticent nor do they mince words telling the offending party off for daring to desecrate the sacredness of their kinky hair by applying heat to it.

I find this reaction equally baffling and entertaining. However I realise that for some it is more than just hair, there are other underlying issues that are inadvertently triggered every time the hair issue comes up. At the risk of sounding prejudiced, I think that in certain parts of the world particularly the United States, black hair has been so politicised to the point where it has become an identity issue. This, in my opinion, is the result of a tortured racial history where thick, kinky, curly black hair was seen as bad and uncivilised. The media perpetuates this kind of thinking when they fuss over black women’s hair excessively. A case in the point is the recent wide press coverage the First Lady of the USA, Michelle Obama’s fringe (bangs to Americans) at the presidential inauguration received a couple of weeks ago.

Black women are having to defend how they choose to wear their hair, usually, to other black women who are guilty of judging and criticising others about their hair choices. This is unfortunate.

To me, hair is hair. How you choose to wear yours is your prerogative. I will not presume to know what is best for you. I respect your choice and I would also appreciate it if you would respect mine. My hair and the way I choose to wear it do not and should not define me. I say live and let live. It’s just hair and I am not my hair.

Thanks for stopping by.