January 2013 kicked in. And a stampede of sweaty people is assembled in one dedicated area, filled with awkward attributes. The Gym! My personal place of horror.

Sure it is good for your health and fat reduction is a grand promise, but I am just not fit to cope with this tribe of dedicated, sweaty, happy sporting people. A sports outfit does not come natural to me and I often wonder who the hell that blown-up-faced broad is, watching at me in the mirror whilst ‘it’ pumps a stack of iron!

The music is polluting my ears, my soul and the stench of sweat –completely allowed in a gym, but not in a club– is poisoning my nostrils! And when the hell  is that sacred moment when delicious, pain resolving brain drugs kicks in and you actually enjoy torturing your body… To me it’s a hoax! Can somebody please light up a freakin’ cigarette to drench the sweaty stench in delicious smell of nicotine? I’d like the gym to be ‘clubby’.

….and I promised to submit myself at least three times a week to the tribe of torture…Gag me now!

Painting: Eckart Hahn