Fitness Freaks: An obligation or a choice?
He wipes his sweat from his forehead with a water bottle in one hand as he goes on about the importance of adequate consumption of carbohydrates and proteins.
The 2 young women listen intently as they steal secret glances on his sturdy abdomen and biceps. He loved talking and he loved the attention. He felt like a fitness guru; somebody people looked up to and admired.
It was a way of life for him, taught since he learned to speak. To exercise 40 minutes daily, eat and drink healthy. It was more than a way of life; it was his religion, his family value that he fundamentally took after and prepared for his entire life.
He loved the place, admired it, the hard work his family had put into the club to allow it to reach glory and prosperity. The timely classes; the fun ones for lazy people the hard ones for the fitness freaks, the cheap ones for the common people and the expensive ones for the elites, the one for teenagers, another for pregnant women.
It was tailored to meet individual needs. Their motto was after all, ‘Fitness for all’. They wanted people to accept it as a lifestyle, a lifestyle that prevented heart attacks and mood disorders.
As he sits on his couch; he couldn’t stop glancing at the bag of chips that Ebraham had left at his place; stacked like trash in a corner. He smirked condescendingly as he thought about his overweight friend who ate for fun. He had tried chips for the first and only time as a child, much to his father’s disgrace but hadn’t liked them. But like the health freak he grew up to be, he had steered clear of such sinful actions most of his life. It was like a bottle of wine in a strict Muslim household; forbidden and sinful. He knew they weren’t good for him, or for anybody. A health wrecking habit, people took on just for some oral pleasure that lasted at most for a minute.
He was taught to count his calories and nutritional intake at a young age. He was grateful for growing up in such a disciplined household; where the only treats offered by parents were cheese slices instead of pizza, organic yogurt instead of ice creams.
But like a dutiful monotheist who occasionally strays away and gives into guilty pleasures, he found himself opening up the bag and enjoying; first the rustling of the shiny packaging, and then the savory tingling that quickly spread throughout his mouth. He went through the packet in a minute and found himself wanting more.
Later he thinks about them as he works out, lies down to sleep, and even while dreaming. Before he knew it he gets up, drives to the nearest supermarket, and gets himself a party-sized potato crisp bag. He goes through it in 5 minutes while seated in the driver’s seat. He feels numb from euphoria and trauma. He knows this is the end of him as he opens the door and jumps out. It was like he had been programmed by someone or something. He had lost control and some passive force had pushed him to the supermarket. He strides straight inside, oblivious to his surrounding like a possessed person. He unconsciously grabs around 25 packets of chips of various colors and sizes.
It was the day that craving had taken a steep turn towards addiction, inevitably addiction turns to deterioration as he ends up a wreck. 2 weeks later he fails to recognize himself while two months later nobody else did either.
