Monday, February 4, 2008

Some things only your women friends can appreciate


“Why are you taking a shower before you go to the gym?” Danny was looking at me like I was silly, but I think any woman would have totally understood.

See, I hired a personal trainer, since apparently I can’t figure out how to run correctly on my own without injuring myself. (On my six mile run Saturday I collided with a street sign and a bush on separate occasions but that’s something different entirely). Anyhow, since I have my heart set on completing the half-marathon at the end of the month, and have been slowed down by knee pain, Danny convinced me it was time for some support staff.

I was pretty nervous on my first visit, but tried to keep it cool. I’m reasonably in shape and pretty likable barring any inappropriate comments that slip out due to my need for incessant talking to fill up any possible uncomfortable silences.

So I met my trainer. He was young, very nice, and laughed at my jokes (my MOST important criteria for whether or not I will be comfortable with someone). He explained that most of the first session would be spent assessing my body.

The irony did not escape me that 99.99% of my life has been spent devising ways to NOT have my body assessed or to fool the eye of anyone who might be doing so (enter panty hose, shapewear and “tankinis”).

I spent thirty minutes engaged in various activities like walking briskly while my trainer watched. Or letting him twist my body into this position or that so he could “assess.” So consider this a warning if you ever decide to hire a trainer, at some point in the session their face could be inches from your sweaty armpit or ass. It’s totally possible.

He then explained that something they “offer” to all their clients is measuring your body fat. “Would you like to know yours?” he asked. I’ll be honest kid, I could live my entire life never, ever knowing what my body fat percentage is and be very blissful in my ignorance. Seriously. I’ll probably run home crying if I know what it is. What if it’s like 75%? It’s possible. I’m very, very blubbery.

So we ended our session with the two of us, as a team, literally gathering up fat rolls like kneaded pizza dough from various locations around my body so that my trainer could grab the rolls with a little pincher thingy that would then proclaim what a lard-ass I am in convenient mathematical values.

Of course I did what I always do when a stranger is handling my flab flap, I made small talk. So…you just moved to town huh?...What? Oh, sure, I can pull up my pant leg so you can get some thigh fat…So, do you like it? Gainesville I mean, do you like Gainesville? Cool…

The number meant nothing to me and so it was impossible to be embarrassed by it. The number of pounds I’m carrying around however does mean something and so I was still shy to say it, even though the person I was telling had just measured my muffin top.

When I got home to tell Danny about this, I didn’t really get the reaction I was gunning for. Danny was very interested in how the workout went (it was after all his idea) but the workout was not the most important part of the story and so it occurred to me that really only a woman could appreciate the magnitude of the situation.

A guy you just met, who’s probably like ten years younger than you, grabbing your BARE fat rolls, and MEASURING THEM. Exactly!

Now don’t get me wrong, I love having a trainer. It was the right decision. I feel awesomely worked out when we’re done, and I have been able to complete my training runs without any knee pain. I have even, with enormous amounts of concentration, gotten over the fact that someone is in close proximity looking at my weight training ugly face or watching my flab fly while I do jumping jacks.

In order to achieve this result however, it is necessary to shower before AND after my workouts. You understand right?

1 comment:

David said...

I love you!!! And YES I get it.