Fairy tales... the backbone of every little girl's dreams

There’s a reason fairy tales have been bestsellers for years. Like the Bible, it gives hope to those who read them. Little girls are led to believe that no matter what happens, she will meet her prince and after one kiss they’ll live happily ever after. Don’t get me wrong, I was a huge fan of these stories when I was little, more for the gorgeous dresses they wore than the story, but they do make an impression on you and set a standard for what you should expect.
 
There are a few series going around at the moment based on fairy tales as well and although they try and add some sinister scary twist to the traditional story, it eventually ends happily ever after, to an extent.

As an example, let’s look at the following tales and see how might would work out in the real world.

Cinderella

Cinderella was a slave to her step mother and sisters. She worked hard all day and then had to cook for them and got nothing in return. She also spent long hours talking to the pet cat.

One night, they all went off to a ball the prince was hosting, leaving Cinderella at home., where she sneakily watched ENews and Fashion Police. Magically, her fairy godmother appeared, cleaned her up and sent her off to the ball. She was given a curfew of midnight before her real life got in the way again.

She met the prince, they danced, they fell in love. At the stroke of midnight she dashed off and left a shoe behind. He then sent his people out to all the houses to look for her and find the lady who fitted the shoe. They found Cinderella, she moved into the castle and lived happily ever after.

The real story would go like this… she worked really hard all day and then came home to her cat. She ate whatever she could find at home, had a glass of wine and repeated the same thing week in and week out.

One night she decided to go to party, even though she wasn’t strictly invited. She got all dressed up with input from her gay best friend. Off she drove to the party. She made a decision to leave before midnight so that she could avoid road blocks.

She met a ‘prince’, they had some drinks, danced a bit and he spun her a story that included everything she wanted to hear… he was looking to settle down, there was something special about her (“can’t you feel the connection???”), he’d like to see her again, to woo her and to get serious and commit to each other. She thought, "WOW! I can’t believe my luck! I never thought I would meet the man of my dreams!"

At midnight, she quickly checked Twitter and according to PigSpotter, a big road block was being set up. She dashed out of the party [and there are 2 different endings…] (Ending 1)with the prince in tow. They went back to her place and had a night of passion and talking and cuddling. He had to go in the morning, but promised to contact her later to arrange a real date and start their lives together. She never heard from him again.

At midnight, she quickly checked Twitter and according to PigSpotter, a big road block was being set up. She dashed out of the party, (Ending 2) having given the ‘prince’ her contact details, including her cell number, BBM, email address, Facebook name and Twitter handle. She never heard from him again.

Undercover gym bunny is watching you

I’ve been a member of a gym since about 1994, when they first came to SA in a big way. Over the past year and a bit, I have become a very regular attendee at gym (usually 4 times a week). I go to the Virgin Active at Brightwater, within walking distance from my house (but only when the sun is up).

I used to go for about 45 minutes, do something that could pass for exercise and then go home. While I was there, I watched people (as I do most places), and entertained myself with their antics.  

During the middle of last year, I decided that it was time to get my shit together, lose weight and get serious about being healthy. So I got myself a personal trainer. After much research (of course!), I picked one but at the last minute changed my mind (as usual). Best decision ever! So we started training – the first week was hell! I couldn’t sit down properly for a week because my thighs were so sore and also couldn’t straighten my arms.

It turns out that working with a trainer on the weights floor (and losing a fair amount of size) gives you some ‘street cred’ with the gym crowd. Since then I have made some friends and I can now observe the people around me as one of them, completely under the radar. I have found that there are some standard guys/people that you will find at most gyms…

The guy who grunts
Recently a migrant (see below) came to train at our little gym. Apparently he does every few weeks. It was ridiculous!! He grunted like he was giving birth to horse! For everything! Even when he was using weights that were lighter than mine and doing tricep dips. And I don’t mean a little moan or heavy breathing… I mean sounds that you would expect to hear in the Kruger Park during mating season – and I’ve just been there so I know first hand!

The girl with the super toned muscles
This girl wears tight pants and usually a ‘top’ that shows her midriff. She has super toned arms, slightly over muscled legs and killer abs. The guys stop and openly stare at her. They call each other and whisper to each other. The reason for this behaviour is good old envy. They wish they had the abs and the definition and obvious discipline that goes with this. They do however, also wish she had boobs and was a little more feminine (muscled square jaws and bulging quads are apparently not that attractive). This is when I walk up to them, tease them a bit and then say, “well at least I have boobs…” As much as I admire aspects of girls like that, she obviously doesn’t enjoy wine and chocolate, probably ever. She must be really unhappy!

The girlfriend
She is the proverbial beard to her training boyfriend. Don’t get me wrong, there are some who train properly as a couple. They do the same exercises and are quite serious about their workout. But then there are those who are there because I don’t think they’d see their boyfriends otherwise. The guys train 2 or 3 hours a day after work, 5 days a week. The girlfriends are easy to spot. They visit their men regularly, in between doing a yoga class, stretching and messing around on a ball, going through the motions of using the yes/no machines. Otherwise, they wander around or drink smoothies at Kauai. 

The migrants
These are the guys who aren’t regulars at the branch. They come in once in a while for a change of scenery. They also usually rub the regulars up the wrong way. They act like they own the place. They strut around in their vests trying to show off. They grunt. They hog the machines. They annoy everyone. Luckily, they only come in about once a month and are then gone again. Order is restored. The guys don’t have to resort to marking out their territory around the machines and barbells. That would be awkward…

The dancing teenage boys
Anyone who has been at Brightwater for a while usually at about 5 in the afternoon will know who I’m talking about. These boys come to gym in their luminous gym kit, with canvas sneakers and enormous headphones. They are always found in packs of no less than 3. They have straightened hair that they spend more time on daily than I do in a week. They don’t do much exercise. And when the right tune is playing through said enormous headphones, they will spontaneously break out into dance. But it’s not a regular, ass-shaking dance, it’s a Charleston, flapper/break dance/epileptic fit type dance. And when one busts a move, the rest follow with their own renditions – almost like a friendly dance-off. Luckily these don’t last longer than about 30 seconds each otherwise they would have anyone in the vicinity crying with hysterical laughter.

Over the past year, gym has become an important part of my life. I came to the conclusion the other day that if I didn’t go to gym after work most days, it would just be a matter of time before I punched someone in the face. It’s a great release… I get to stay healthy while watching these entertaining people and the endorphins aren’t terrible! Someone called me a gym bunny the other day, which I wasn’t really ok with at the time, but the more I’ve thought about, the more I think I’ll just own it. So yes, I am a gym bunny and proud!

Movember

And so Movember has officially begun. It is the month of moustaches (a lot of them just sad attempts) and not so attractive facial hair that goes with some of these ‘designer’ ‘taches. The whole moustache thing has been taken to a whole new level, including tips for Moustachery, the Moscars and of course an App.

The point of Movember is to raise funds and awareness for men’s health, specifically prostate cancer and other cancers that affect men. The men who register to take part even have a catchy name (like everything does these days) – the Mo Bros. Mo Bros become walking, talking billboards for the 30 days of (M)November and raise awareness around the often ignored issue of men’s health.

It’s often said that everyone is affected by cancer at some point, either themselves or their friends or family. In about 2004, my father was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Luckily he caught it early because he regularly had blood tests because his mother died of cancer and father also had it (but caught it early as well). So, from that point of view, I’m all for it! If I could (and thankfully I can’t!!) I would grow one too, especially now that the “Big C” has made another unwelcome appearance in my life and upset my tranquil existence. But that’s a story for another day…

So, Movember… My problem with the whole moustache/Movember thing is that, well, there are moustaches everywhere! There are Magnum PI’s, Mr T’s, the handlebars, the Walrus, the Village People (take your pick of 6!) and so on and so on. I am not a huge fan of facial hair and I know a lot of other women who aren’t either. But the implications for single girls in Movember are so much more far-reaching! What it means is that if you meet someone during the month of Movember, you aren’t really sure whether it’s a Movember ‘tache or a permanent facial fixture! Imagine the horror when 1 December comes around and the lamb chops don’t get the chop!? It’s quite horrible to imagine!

We need to be very careful. Because let’s face it, first, shallow impressions are important. If you see a hottie, sporting a “Hulk Hogan”, you’re going to think twice about striking up a conversation just in case, he actually wants to look like Hulk Hogan all the time! It’s a whole month of indecision and taking massive risks where the dating game is concerned.  It’s also a bit more difficult to take a guy seriously if he has a patchy, pre-pubescent looking clump of face fluff.

Luckily this only lasts for a month and like I’ve said for an excellent cause, so I guess I’ll have to suck it up! But boys, be warned… remember than January is now “Fanuary”! We will get you back!