When moral fibre and muscle tone become one

IN a gym very close to you dwell a group of people who spend up to three hours per day bettering themselves, their physiques and ultimately their selfworth. How, you ask? Through gruelling exercises that will force them to walk taller, straighter and with their noses raised slightly higher than the regular human being.

I’ve recently joined this exclusive (gym) club, as I use fitness to separate myself from other mortals.

It’s no secret that a stronger muscle tone and a great physique means you’re already halfway to Zeus-like status. You don’t even have to be that interesting, or even conscious. As long as you have great arms and abs that could clean a decent load of laundry, the world will open up to you. You may not be able to use those arms to reach out and hug the world back, but that’s not important. As your neck slowly disappears, your self-confidence grows. You wouldn’t be able to see all of those people hating on your new life anyway, because guess what? You can’t turn your neck to look at them, because it doesn’t exist.

It’s rubbing off on me, this new life. I have a sense of purpose about my day as I stride down the street with my carefully curated smoothie, calf muscles moving right there with me, demanding your acknowledgement and admiration. As a frequent gym-goer, the world just cannot ignore you because you refuse to let it, and must constantly remind it how healthy you are.

We can’t all reside in this space. That’s why so many weak souls fall away to forever languish in their unhealthiness, covered in cheese curls and regret, only to try again and fail in January or during Lent. If we were all gym freaks, it would mean we’re all equal. And we can’t have that.

I’m a month into this new world, and I must say I already feel immeasurably better than everyone else. It may be my moral fibre strengthening alongside my muscle tone. My principles improving with my posture. My ethics fortifying my endurance.

When the gym receptionist scans that membership card and gives you a knowing smile and nod of approval for your good choices, you know you’re home.

When you leave, you carry those endorphins and good cheer with you as you interact with your friends and family. Meals are now spaces of learning; a moment to teach them of the dangers of bread and sugar.

You’re an evangelist now, doing good work. Yes, some of your friends may silently hate you and not invite you to fun, unhealthy things anymore — but that’s the sacrifice one makes when choosing this path.

And as long as you have your phone handy, to keep your digital friends updated about your journey — with gym selfies, before-and-after photos and smoothie recipes — you’ll be just fine. LS @sboshmafu