Pregnant Out of Wedlock in Abuja, Nigeria

I landed in Abuja, Nigeria, full of motivation to use the gym facilities the hotel had to offer. I had the whole night to catch up on my sleep, and then head to the gym first thing in the morning. The exercises my personal trainer back home showed me were fresh in my mind and because I had a long holiday, it was the right time to put them into practice.

Once I got to the gym, I was pleasantly surprised to see that the hotel management had paid a lot of attention to it as it was quite big with new equipment, and everything was divided into rooms. I started with my routine warm up of thirty minutes of treadmill, and then I carried on with the rest of my exercises. After my cardio exercise was completed, I realized

I had done nothing when compared to the valiant man running next to me on the treadmill with weights of five kilograms in his hands, working out his biceps too. I decided to go to the weights room to do my new exercises. It was a bigger room and it made me happy that there were only two men working out, so I could do my squats and lunges freely without having a crowd of people around me.

A man was working out hardcore and lifting weights heavier than my body. I could hear him panting and puffing, and I couldn’t help but judge him in my mind and giggle a little. What made me giggle was how he was showing off. He definitely had a great looking body with not even an inch of fat, but his outfit was a little too far-fetched. He wore a very short pair of black shorts that had a slit on both sides so every time he flexed, you were forced to see how defined his curves were, and a very tight black top that could clip under the legs, except he had kept one unclipped to show off his six packs. You could clearly see how proud he was of his great looks.

C’mon! I was also very proud of myself and my outfit. I wore a pink loose top and a pair of tights with tiny pink flowers printed on it. While working my butt off and doing my final round of exercises, tree sets of squats combined with lunges, I heard Mr. Showy, covered in a chunky layer of muscles and fiber telling me, “Please take it easy, you are pregnant,” in a thick English accent.

I didn’t know if I should have laughed or cried, but I didn’t stop exercising and while in my squat position, I told him, “No I am not pregnant, just fat,” with a thick layer of sarcasm to complement his thick accent. Mr. Showy didn’t give up, so he tried again, “Did you just deliver?” Why on earth was this man so concerned about the status of my uterus? Is this how they compliment women in Nigeria? Or was he just trying to murder my motivation to exercise?

Smiling, I turned around and said, “Neither am I pregnant nor did I recently deliver, but if you are hitting on me, change your tactics because this is certainly not working”. Mr. Showy with a straight face replied, “You must be having a child”. At this point I couldn’t stop myself and I exploded into a hysterical laughter.

Almost in shock because he most probably didn’t expect this reaction from me, he said he saw me do pelvic bowl exercises and thought I might be pregnant. What a lame excuse, but I had no reason to be upset because he was not aware that not every other normal human being is covered with muscles and packs.

He was definitely hitting on me because he finally introduced himself and asked where I was from because I looked like an albino next to him.  Another shock for me was when he told me he was Italian, and I started laughing again. Whatever he was doing to impress me was not helping him.

Since my curiosity level is too high and I can’t help not being sarcastic in such situations, I asked how is he Italian and if he was objected to racism in Italy.

Full of confidence, he said while flexing, “I moved to Italy at eighteen years of age and got the citizenship, and there is no such thing racism in any part of the world when you have money; there is only classicism.” Interesting point of view, I thought, but now he was showing off his money. Such people make me revolt. What happened to modesty and humbleness? If you are staying at a five star hotel, it makes it obvious that you can afford it. Why is there a need to show off your money by words? Hmmmm, I rather not continue my conversation with him.

So, I left politely, escaping from his “interesting” conversation and apologizing that I had things to do. I couldn’t help but smile all the way to my room. How could this man try to ruin my motivation while I was killing myself at the gym? Also, it is sad to see how people have become so money minded these days. If only he had worked on his brain along with the muscles.