Whether you're a slob, a porkie, a couch potato, a lard arse, a jelly belly or a beached whale, it's high time you began suffering for your trans-fat sins. Why? Because you damn well deserve it.
And don't just take WeekendNotes' word for it. There's a long line of buff fitness instructors throughout your city eager to beat the weight off you. Welcome to boot camp.
The concept is simple: you give money and you get pain in return. Sporting names like Drill Sergeant and Section Commander, stern-looking slices of beefcake will make you sweat, ache and (they hope) cry, as they endlessly shout motivational slogans at you. "Hustle to gain muscle, losers!" "Commit to be fit!"
Pleasingly, your sojourn in hell will be a sociable one. Tests will be done to gauge your fitness, before you're placed with others of a similar level and the remorseless pounding begins. So as you're running, jumping, skipping, lifting, carrying, pulling and dying, your new best friends will be doing the same. When your lungs are screaming for oxygen and you're fighting the urge to vomit, you'll be consoled to know that others are suffering too. What a lovely person you are.
Besides torture and abuse, your psychopathic trainers will provide education. They'll explain which parts of your diet are wrong (all of it) and what, besides waddling to the fridge, you should be doing in the way of exercise.
Sessions take place every day all over Australia's major cities, usually in the early morning. The average program costs about $200/month, although with many places offering free trials and money-back guarantees, it pays to shop around.