Dear Diary. I do the same gym class as a man called Marc. He's a quiet, mild-mannered, middle-aged man with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard with a touch of gray.

Today I found Marc on the internet. And what I found shocked me. In fact, I spent ten minutes scrolling through his Instagram and going "What the fuck? What the FUCK?"

Guess what job he does. Go on, guess.

Turns out he's a mayor. He's the mayor of a village nearby with a population of 4,000. As jobs go, you don't get much more high-status than mayor. The only higher-up job is president.

I imagine Marc walking around his village in a top hat like Mayor McCheese, kissing babies and shaking hands with townsfolk.

ALSO — and this amazed me — his wife is a hot woman I've seen at the gym. She looks a bit like Claudia Black. There's no way I would have guessed Marc and her together. She's a hot woman who could be a model while Marc is a shy, greying man in his 40s.

Marc must have made a deal with the devil. It's the only explanation.

Marc's also posted a video of him at the gym and I'm in the background of the video. I'm on the floor lifting a dumbbell. My hair looks scruffy and I still have a balding spot on my crown, despite two hair transplants. All I want is to look normal. I used to want to look attractive, but now I'll settle for normal. I've lowered my standards for myself. I'm considering getting a wig. I've booked a haircut for tomorrow at least.

***

I saw Marc at the gym today and said, "So you're an important person, huh? You're a mayor?"

Marc didn't look surprised. He looked a little annoyed if anything. "Yeah," he said.

"I found your Instagram," I said, by way of explanation.

Then the gym class started and that was that.