Not my type

by James

‘This is not kickercise, or Kettleballs, or any kind of balls.’

‘And this is not some infomercial crap, this is not the Insanity workout.’


And with that, the Lycra clad Rastafarian God that was DrDreymon released the hounds.

For a half second Jackie stared at the fourteen Rottweilers before she was elbow to elbow with thirty other wannabe chiselled abs, all of them fighting to flee the snapping canines. Pushing and shoving they fought their way through the narrow door at the end of the studio, into another chamber where DrDreymon was already poised by another lever.

Jackie forced air into her lungs, pushed sweat damped hair from her eyes. She stared at the steel double doors already shaking from whatever beasts lurked behind.

DrDreymon was shouting again.

‘Who wants abs? You wants abs? You can have abs. But first, you have to…flee the alligators!’

It was Justin’s dream that gave her the kick up the backside she needed. Sat there with his Frosties, telling her he’d been in the water, telling her about this creature, this huge mass of blubber wrapped in a life jacket had been clawing at his body.

Jackie didn’t tell him she’d come home after 2-4-1 cocktails with the girls feeling amorous.

She gave up crisps, she gave up booze. She turned her nose up at the doughnuts foisted on her in work, she said no thank you when Justin rang to ask if she wanted a pre-dinner Big Mac and fries.

And then she saw a poster for the Lunacy workout programme.

Seven weeks of hell. She ran from dogs, from big cats, from horses with chainsaws and cows who’d been shown a video of what went on in the abattoir. She was dive bombed by turkeys and menaced by killer bees, swum in pools with water fearing leopards and in spike dropping ceilings filled with centipedes and cockroaches.

She became nine stone of varnished steel.

Only one way to celebrate – Justin’s favourite, Big Mac and fries before they hit the restaurant. One tiny burger wouldn’t matter, would it?

Into McDonalds with the killer abs and the toned arms and the tight butt that needed to be seen. She gave her order and then as she waited she turned to survey the sheeple with their fat slovenly bodies. Were they jealous of this Adonis who could gollop down fast food and not let it show, as far they knew?

The nearest Big Mac to her dropped slowly to the table. Justin looking at her with hamster cheeks stuffed with burger. Jackie’s legs waded the treacle that must have flooded the restaurant. She stood by the table just as the second Big Mac lowered. Sitting next to Justin was Julie, the woman who had been with her through Slimming World and Weightwatchers and through umpteen boxes of special offer Quality Street.

Justin grinned weakly.

‘Er, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about…’