Boot camp and the worst job in the world.

Every Friday I get up at 5:30am, don my gym gear and drag my knuckles along to a boot camp run by the Pretty Terminator (PT). For an hour we burpee, tricep dip, squat, sprint and basically flog ourselves to the sound track of the suburbs waking up and PT yelling “You can do it! Come on! Great job!”


boot camp text
An example of the conversations had the night before boot camp with PT

And in their fluffy dressing gowns those suburbs are probably wondering where that hippo-in-labour groaning and chicken wing slapping is coming from. (Here’s the tip: it’s coming from me.)

Here are some other choice sounds coming from me:

“Shit I hate these ones!”
“No. I’m NOT ready for mountain climbers.”

The yawning usually comes around the 45 minute mark when my mind realises I’m out of bed and perhaps I haven’t been breathing appropriately for cardio and weight training.

Boot camp 1
What I think I look like at boot camp. (Photo courtesy of

And then my mind wakes up and I really start to get my whinge on. Doesn’t that sound pleasant for the rest of the boot campers who’ve also dragged themselves down to the park at sparrow’s fart?

But through it all PT yells encouragingly, has a laugh and puts up with other people’s sweat flying at her. She gets up at 5am to drag all the weights and those damned ropes down to the park to set up the circuit. Even as I grunt and throw some daggers at her via my sleep-snot eyes, she has the grace (or maybe the dogged professionalism) to smile. Or perhaps she’s proof that exercising loads really does make you happy. Fuck that’s annoying.

boot camp 2
This one’s a bit closer to reality. Especially that blonde woman who looks like she’s about to blow a foofie valve. That’s what I actually look like. (Photo courtesy of


Anyway, being a boot camp instructor certainly gets my vote as being one of the worst jobs in the world simply because they have to exercise ALL THE TIME, but mostly because they have to put up with cranky shits like me first thing in the morning.

So Pretty Terminator: I salute you with my gradually-shrinking tuckshop arms!

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