I’m not sporty. I’ve never played sportsball or supported a sportsball team so I’m probably cheating a little by bending this week’s Wicked Wednesday to the gym, but they’re both kinda healthy so I hope it’s alright.

Gyms seem like weird places to me – where else is it acceptable to grunt, sweat and pant in front of strangers for an hour or two?

On second thought, don’t answer that.

It’s not that I’m anti-gym – in fact I’ve slowly come to love them again – it’s just that, between the clanking, judgemental machines and the people I see using them – all of whom I secretly decide are better than me – I tend to shuffle around with my head down, feeling more body conscious than ever.

Like everyone says, though, once I’ve been and done my piece, I always come out feeling infinitely better. Oh sure, it’s hard work and, at about the 15 minute mark, I ask myself just what the fuck I’m doing, why I’m there and Oh-God-Why-Am-I-Sweating-So-Much-When-The-Dude-Running-At-Full-Pelt-Across-From-Me-Looks-As-Cool-As-A-Goddamn-Cucumber?! But I still come out the other side feeling good.

No, it has nothing to do with perving over sexy ladies in lycra because, truth be told, between moving machine parts, swinging headphone cables and trying to keep my balance without glasses on the Lunge-A-Tron 9000 (not its real name, sadly), I can’t risk looking at anything unless I want to fall into a Goonies-esque booby-trap.

And it’s not the feeling of feel-good endorphins pumping through my body and the sense of achievement I get afterwards, either. At least not alone.

It’s the heat and the sweat and how filthy I feel afterwards, knowing I’ve pushed myself beyond my usual limits.

It’s the deep burn I feel after dragging my shlumpy body up a (virtual) hill instead of wallowing in a bottle of booze each night.

It’s the shower afterwards where, having sweated out half my body-weight and feeling disgustingly un-sexy, I stagger back to the changing rooms on rubbery legs, peel the wet shirt off my back and dive into the sweetest shower of the day. Dousing myself beneath hot, steamy water which softens my body before flicking the switch and shocking it into cold submission. Hot and cold. One extreme to another. A lovely sensation.

It’s drying myself afterwards; stroking my shoulders and legs with the towel, rubbing my cock with the soft material and teasing my chest with that warm cotton until my nipples practically sing.

After a workout and a shower, almost every nerve in my body seems both sleepily relaxed and intensely awake to every sensation and it allows me to leave the gym feeling less like the Marshmallow Man and even brave enough to post a #GymPic or two.

I shall never be a bronzed adonis with buttocks strong enough to crack a walnut, but I’m ok with that. The positive feeling is slowly working its magic on me and, combined with the very generous comments from certain followers on Twitter, has made me feel less concerned about flashing my wobbly bits online. It even led me plunging into my first #SinfulSunday which previously would have been inconceivable.

And yes, that word means exactly what I think it means.

So, in a rather surprising turn of events, I’ve decided to look at my own body and boast about a few random things which I feel are my best assets. None of them really have anything to do with the gym but, without that strange place, I doubt I’d have had the confidence to talk about them before.

  • I like my stupidly expressive eyebrows, especially how they seem to go through bemusement, frustration, exasperation and determination while reflected in the mirror in a single session.
  • I’m impressed by how hard my nipples stand to attention after a workout (as some people have kindly pointed out).
  • I’ve got damn fine legs. Seriously – they’re the most toned part of me!

These features won’t win any awards, but I like them, as random as they might seem, and they’ve always been there – even my great legs which have always been great, I just never noticed them before!

See!

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Which is why I’d like to encourage others, no matter what they think of their body in general, to try and find at least one thing they like about themselves and just boast about it. Whether it’s the curl of their hair, the little mole on their shoulder or even the shape of their toenail, it’s all worth celebrating.

I think everyone deserves to enjoy a random body boast once in a while.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

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