So my first day at the gym went off well, no harm, no foul. My friend and I decided to do a 30-minute class. I did it because I didn’t want to look like a moron wrestling with the weight machines that were neatly placed in a circle around the main floor, convenient for the entertainment of the other patrons, but not so flattering for me, as I tried to figure out where to place my limbs. The instructor was great, immediately identifying me as the newbie, no doubt by the look of panic on my face as I realized that if I wanted to get a piece of equipment, I would have to shove aside the elderly, rather buxom lady who had planted herself firmly next to the treadmill. Luckily I didn’t have to resort to such under-handed tactics, as the instructor, seeing that her class was about to erupt in chaos, decided to assign equipment to each person. In the kerfuffle, I lost my friend, who ended up several machines away from me, thus rendering her unable to help me other than with worried looks from across the room. I climbed up on the treadmill I had been assigned and got started. It would have been fine, I’m sure, had it not been for the setting on the machine. Apparently the person who had used it before me fancied herself to be the energizer bunny, because once that thing got going, the only thing that saved me from falling off in pretzel pose was that the instructor rushed over to me. I’m sure it was less to save me from embarrassing myself and more to avoid potential liability issues if I broke my face in the first ten minutes at the gym. Nevertheless she calmly informed me that the treadmill was controlled by my feet. Well, duh. But who would control my feet? Anyway, I survived that monster with my dignity intact and everything was going well until it was my turn to sit on a contraption apparently designed to work the muscles in your back. Well I wish that someone had told me, because when I sat down and put my arms and legs in the appropriate position, nothing happened. Trying to look as if I knew exactly what I was doing, I pulled this way and that but nothing happened. The lady next to me, the one I had contemplating shoving out of the way earlier, must have been a mind reader, because I could have sworn I saw her smirk when I turned to her looking for help. She mumbled something unintelligible, probably that I should watch my back next time I came to the gym. Luckily the 45 seconds allotted to each machine was over. The next few were alright, but when the instructor came to remind me to keep my toes up on the leg curls, I got distracted by her nipples which were staring at me condescendingly through her shirt. I must say that despite my misgivings I enjoyed the class and will definitely be going back.