Mrs Goody Two Shoes XI

Weighty issues

Physical fitness at the cost of mental well-being -- not the most alluring of options

The utter unremarkability of my life having hit me during one session of chit chat I was having across balconies with the newly-arrived bride in the apartment next door on a Saturday afternoon as my husband enjoyed a siesta inside, I decided it was time for a re-evaluation. After we had had a few banal discussions about what both of us cooked and which particular vendor sold overpriced potatoes, I tried to launch a more philosophical, and broader, topic. Life.
"Don't you think we are always preoccupied with petty things in our lives? We are so constricted by domestic duties or office politics. [In her case, only the home front though]." I was almost speaking to myself, "We don't do anything worthwhile, really, with our lives. [She was twirling her dupatta end and looking coquettishly at all and sundry, like a perky new bahu]. Don't you think time is running out, too fast?"
"I know!!" She suddenly jumped up, almost as if it was her Eureka moment. "Why don't we both join the gym, ha?" Wow, where did that come from?
Sheila, aka Mrs Sheila Rahul Dixit, thought slimming while gyrating to some robust musical numbers would bring that yet-to-be-discovered purpose in my life. "Oh didi [yes, I am old enough to be the typical older sister icon], it will be so much fun. Then you will think that you are doing something." She forgot to add the 'worthwhile' at the end of her sentence.
So the didi trooped behind her the next morning, and found herself trapped among bulky aunties and their all-too-obedient bahuranis at the local gym. It was a ghastly sight, and I refuse to be politically correct.
I had imagined at least a hunk of a trainer and instead found an an uncouth, short and sweaty man shouting, "Do woan, thwo, thiree, phor..." I had imagined slim beauties who I can bitch about (more since I secretly admired their perfect shapes). Instead, there were older women in salwars and their husband's tees, maybe because they couldn't find a size that fits them, puffing, heaving, sweating and then finally shouting to me, "Just come and pull me up please." That at least saved me the trouble of lifting weights. Or even, change the music na beta.
The usual issues of husbands, neighbours, cooking, television, children and grandchildren did the rounds. Inane. Prosaic. Maddening! Physical fitness had gone for a toss, my mental well-being was also being threatened.
I walked out. I seriously needed a reconnaissance, of my own life.