Somebody’s Parrot

Hot sweaty bodies writhing and moaning, taking up impossible positions. Breaths taken in short, sharp snatches. An air of complete absorption and concentration. The occasional grunt or moan of exertion peppered the air. The squeak of Lycra rubbing on Lycra and above this sound a mechanical hum, a susurration. Floor to ceiling mirrors reflecting activity, or lack of. Anodyne colours for floors and walls, nothing to distract from what was the prime purpose of this room. Little rushed snatches of conversation permeate through background noises. And the ever present musak.
 

Vanessa looked around her.
This all felt wrong. What had she in common with these activities? What was she doing in this alien environment? It had taken a lot of courage for her to come to this place. She couldn’t back out now. If she did she would never escape from her humdrum existence.

"This is the gym. We have state of the art cardiovascular equipment, including joggers, steppers, rowers and skiers, and a very comprehensive weight training area. If you are interested we can suggest a fitness coach who can guide and help in your training routines. There are aerobic classes every day and at every level. There is also yoga instruction. Our beauty salon can offer most treatments including Myrtolis, new from Italy and very fashionable, top models cannot praise it enough. It has been shown to reduce wrinkles, cellulite and appearances of age."
 Vanessa wondered whether she added this comment just for the ageing clients.

" We have a coffee bar offering healthy drinks and snacks and there is a small boutique specialising in Italian sportswear which we do hope to expand in the near future. We suggest that you have a fitness assessment before you start training properly. Our staff members are experienced in all aspects of health and fitness. You’re very welcome to try anything out today."
 Angela delivered this speech in a bored voice that showed she had said this hundreds of times before and wasn’t really interested in the person to whom she was speaking.

Angela was tall, blond and extremely well shaped and was dressed in designer sports gear. She obviously took advantage of her job as receptionist at the ‘La Salute’ Health and Fitness Centre and worked out in the gym as often as she could.

"When you have finished experimenting with the equipment in the gym come to the coffee shop and accept a complimentary bevanda and I can give you a number of workout plans from which you can choose the one that is most suitable for your needs." She sauntered slowly from the room hoping that the eyes of all attractive males were upon her.

The gym had been open for about six months and it had a very trendy Italian feel to it. It had received rave reviews in the local paper. Vanessa remembered some of the points raised in the article, written in usual reporterise of course. ‘Like a phoenix the Salute Health and Fitness Centre has risen from the ashes of the former steel works. Where once heat was used to forge metals, energy from body heat is now being used to mould and shape muscles. The new centre has a very cosmopolitan feel and no money has been spared on décor and equipment’ It was the place to be and the place to be seen.
 
Vanessa felt like a fish out of water.
 

The changing rooms were tiled in Carrera marble, power showers lined one wall whilst on another was a bank of mirrors and hair dryers to satisfy the needs of clients who wanted only to show their best faces to the world. Fluffy white towels and complimentary bottles of shampoo and conditioner, with perfumes to suit most preferences, reflected the membership charges. The piped music had the hint of Pucini about it.

The manager, Signore Bruno Cavalieri (aka Brian Carter) tried very hard at being Italian but unfortunately his Lower Gornal accent surfaced occasionally. Vanessa had been at primary school with him but he obviously did not recognise her. Had she changed that much? He had worn very well, had muscles in all the right places, wore clothing that accentuated his physique with colours that complimented his very Latin look. He could turn the heads of women of all ages.
What had happened to make her into this fat, middle-aged dowdy person?
 

The staff were all ‘beautiful people’, tall, thin and athletic. Conforming to what modern times considered attractive. They wore the gym uniform, T-shirts and shorts in shades of blue with Bienvenuto a Salute written in fancy script across their backs. They were good adverts for the life style the gym was trying to promote.
The clientele came in all shapes and sizes, many of them believing that a change in shape would produce a more ‘rounded’ happier human being.
 

Vanessa looked around. She was very tempted to leave and never return but she had announced, with such conviction, to friends and family that this time she would really do something about her life.

Vanessa Denson was forty-five years old, separated from her husband and had two grown up children. She had married her childhood sweetheart when she was eighteen, had her first child at twenty, the next at twenty-two and had been a mother and a happy, contented housewife until six months, one week and two days ago, and then her world had fallen apart. She had become a single person living alone in a family home that no longer held a family. Her children were at university and her husband had met someone else. Someone much younger (and thinner) than her of course, and he was going to live with her.
She supposed that it was her fault. She had read the glossy magazines with their advice on how to keep your man. "Surprise him. Don’t let him think that he knows you. Be an imaginative lover. Make him want to come home to you." She had laughed at these advice pages thinking that she and Clive had a marriage that was not dependent on appearances. What they had was true love built on years of knowing each other’s needs. Having the unity of being the parents of two lovely children. But Clive had wanted more than a loving wife, he had said he was bored with the predictability of his life. Vanessa supposed that meant that she was boring and therefore the glossy magazines must be right.
 

Most of those six months had gone by in a blur; she had lurched from despair to an ‘I’ll show him!’ attitude. The children had been on her side, friends had rallied round but she was at a loss to know what to do. All she knew was how to be a wife and mother. She was adrift in a sea of despair and uncertainty. Then her son and his wife had given her a year’s subscription to the newly opened gym,
"You can go out and meet new people, get fit, start a new life." Robert had said enthusiastically when she had looked aghast at this gift.
Why hadn’t he just bought her flowers?
At first she had come up with many excuses and then she had persuaded herself that it was a good idea, and now here she was on the brink of this ‘new life’ and she was scared!