Despite being a gym critic and #thinspiration cynic, after months of minimal physical activity, I decided it was time to sign up to something.

Coming into my first office job, I didn’t realise how quickly the guilt sets in when sitting at a desk all day.

Amongst the commute from the Gold Coast to Brisbane and the 9-5 drag, I’ve been struggling to find the time to exercise. Or maybe I’m just lazy – that’s probably closer to the truth.

So when the opportunity came up to join a Jetts gym, the guilt took over and I reluctantly decided to sign up for a three-month trial.

Three months on the machines and you’re out, Natalie. The gym isn’t for you.

It’ll probably be full of steroid-loaded gym junkies; you’ll look like an idiot.

Oh god, what are you supposed to wear to the gym?

Conveniently the nearest Jetts is five minutes away, right across the road from work. I realised it was highly unlikely I’d be able to come up with any excuses to avoid going.

Wearing a daggy shirt and old school gym shorts, I arrived and was approached by gym manager Adam.

Immediately he took the time to show me around the gym and equipment, as well as the particular machines to tackle my self-proclaimed ‘tuck-shop lady arms’ and ‘thunder thighs’.

Whilst this introduction took place, I quickly scouted the area. There was not one muscle-enthused, ‘roid-raged person in sight — just a bunch of stereotypical workers running on the treadmills and doing their post-work fitness. Everyone seemed to keep to themselves, and I liked it.

My worries about missing my favourite evening television shows also subsided; each machine is new and has its own television screen.

But the real worries lied in my first training session and using the machines without looking like an uncoordinated idiot.

For those reasons, my first session lasted about 15 minutes and I tried to sneak out with a quick goodbye to Adam, without him realising my obvious lack of commitment.

The next day, I found myself compelled to go on lunch time. Which is bizarre, really, when sushi-gorging on my lunch break is the highlight of the day.

With an hour up my sleeve, I went for a run on the treadmill, used the machines Adam had recommended and attempted some awkward squats.

Was anyone watching me? Do they realise how unfit and awkward I am?

After a quick scout around the gym, it was clear everyone enjoyed keeping to themselves. It seemed they too had ducked out on their lunch breaks for some physical activity.

Maybe this isn’t so bad after all. Maybe I’m normal.

Yet my first personal trainer session loomed, and I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty — if anything, highly embarrassing.

When I met with Daniel, he took all my measurements and discussed my goals with me.
Once we started training, I felt much more encouraged and motivated than I thought was personally possible.

Despite being so unfit, I wanted to beat my goals — to run faster, stretch longer and push harder than what I previously thought I could do.

A month later, I’m on track to beating those goals. I no longer need Daniel for motivation; feeling stronger and healthier is motivation enough.

Even if I’m biased to the one gym I’ve experienced, I believe Jetts gyms are perfect for the average-joe.

There’s no roid-culture, just the drive to better yourself. There’s no uncomfortable vibes; instead I feel welcome every time I walk through the door.

If you too are a gym critic, but are struggling to find your own feet in fitness, I really recommend giving Jetts a try.