Monday, August 11, 2008

This is why the Romanians hate me*

Normally, I consider myself to be pretty much an upfront, outgoing, tell it like it is kinda gal. For some reason, this all goes out the window when confronted openly and in person about a subject I am uncomfortable with. For alleged fatness. It's true that I have put on a couple of" happy to be married" and "thank god my husband loves to cook and also loves curvy girls" pounds. So, I joined a gym. I have been diligently attending said gym three or four times a week at 6:00am. Yes...SIX in the ANTE-MERIDIAN.

Anyway, part of joining this particular gym is two free sessions with a personal trainer. I vehemently oppose the idea of going to one of these trainers for a whole variety of reasons...they try to sell you supplements, they try to sell you more time working with them, etc. But, given my fear of open confrontation, when I signed up for the gym and the membership guy signed me up for a personal training session (it's FREE!), I was powerless to resist. We set it up for last Monday at 6:30. In the MORNING! It's FREE!

I was there. He was not. SWEET! I thought for sure I had actually managed to escape. No appointment, no one measuring my fat, no one trying to sell me protein powder, and no confrontation. But then, later at cell phone rang. I didn't pick up. That's OK, I thought...I'm totally OK with being passive aggressive, I just won't call back. Problem solved.

Tuesday at the gym passes uneventfully. Then, Wednesday morning, I'm working out and I hear "Energy Spatula? Come to the front desk. Ms. Spatula...please come to the front desk!" And, here's where I made a mistake. I looked up! And, there he was...standing at the front desk...our eyes met...he waved...I knew I was in trouble.

I couldn't ignore him, eye contact was made. So, I stepped off my treadmill and headed over. He apologized profusely and wanted to set me up with a new appointment. How come no one, INCLUDING ME, has mentioned that he showed up at the gym at 6am specifically for the purpose of stalking me down? Why didn't I think of that??

So, I give in. I set the appointment for the following morning. In my 1/2 hour with the trainer, here is what I learned:

1. Muscles burn glycogen. Not everyone knows that.
2. If you take 8 years to get fat, you can't expect to lose it overnight. Fatty.
3. Most people quit the gym after four months.
4. If I manage to stick it out for four months, I will find myself becoming more magnetic as I shed my dull, inactive, unenergetic persona for a more "active" and "fit" and..."likeable" self. (People like thin people. I'm not thin. But, someday, with his help, I could at least make an attempt to get there.)
5. Romanians hate Gypsy's. Swear to God he told me this.
6. He knows all about MS because his sister-in-law has it. I shouldn't focus on my limitations, it's counterproductive. If I can't feel my legs, well, squats will help me with that if I would just quit whining.
7. Glycogen!
8. If I want more sessions, they can be had for the low, low price of $125. An HOUR!
9. Oh, I was in the Air Force? Well, he was a Marine. He's surprised I even know how to find a gym.
10. On a scale of 1-5, I know o, ZERO, about weight-lifting. The sooner I accept that, the sooner we can all get on with our lives.

But, I made it through. I fulfilled my commitment to have one free training session - I'm done, right?

WRONG! Today, I'm on the elliptical machine, headphones on, minding my own business. If I wasn't such a pussy about my MS and all focus-y on it, I would be on the treadmill, but the whole "numb from the thighs down" thing has me pouting like a five year old. I look over, and guess who is standing next to me in all of his pony-tailed glory? The staring commences. I'm not taking off my headphones, and apparently he's not budging. Finally I say "I'm watching the news." And he goes, "Yeah"...and then stands there in further awkward silence for at least two minutes.

Anyway, the whole thing is just creeping me out. This guy wants to save me from my own fatness, and I just want to be patted on the back for getting up at the crack of dawn and not falling off the treadmill and killing myself. If he had bothered to ask me my goals, he would know this. Instead I am cowering behind the elliptical machine every morning and dodging out of my own gym like it's the walk of shame or something.

*Actual quote from my trainer right before he enlightened me on his Gypsy heritage and the fact that Romanians hate Gypsy's for their superior ability to do squats and lunges. Seriously.
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