I’ve just got back from the relatively new Westminster Lodge Leisure Centre after my pretty short induction to the gym. It was a bit of a non-event for me because all it involved was the woman showing my carer how the machines came apart and I can wheel in. As I’ve deliberately suggested, she did address my carer for parts of it. Not all the time I must add. She did speak to me as well. However, that’s what makes the whole thing worse. Normally, people either speak directly to me like a real human or are completely patronising and go above my head. Never in between. This actually confused me and put me on edge.
When I first met her, she asked how old I was to which I replied 19, a “great age” apparently. Anyone else, I might have thought it was flirty banter but I was just waiting for her to say “who’s a big boy then?”. I gave her time though because disabled people are scary (not going to lie) and if you haven’t met one before, ignorance at first is sort of excusable. But, after having a conversation and discovering that I have a sense of humour like her, I don’t understand why she would continue speaking about me as if I am not there. It is pretty clear I’m not a child. We established that I’m 19.
I thought that talking about my motive for joining the gym (the London Marathon, not perving on women as a few have said) would illustrate that I’m serious about working out. A bit of concern came on her face as she explained that it was a “really difficult race”. My carer said after that she probably thought I saw the marathon on the T.V. and, in Little Britain style said, “I want that one”. I do know that I’m not going to get fit overnight and it will take a lot of hard training. She did reassure me that “I could do it”. Thanks but I know. It wouldn’t be an aim for me if it was impossible.
After my necessary induction, I now feel I’m ready for my first session tomorrow. One step at a time though (the pun was intended).
Bye for now!