Working out is fun. Right?
I could hear the music as I came up the elevator. Thrilled, I eagerly pushed past a few people (why do people always walk so incredibly slowly in shopping centers?????). I was keen. I was motivated. Today was the day I was going to get my bum into gear. A comment re the infamous BKK belly in a testimonial had got me thinking. Fortunately it coincided with the opening of the gym I have joined.
Along with the grand opening, came a free assessment and a few free workouts with a personal trainer. I thought this was a marvelous idea. Know where you?re at, set a few goals, work at it, then strut down the beach in a couple of months. Excellent.
I nonchalantly strolled in, pretending not to be completely intimidated by the music, the people, the scary machines. And promptly got lost in the changing rooms. Seriously, this place is all chrome and mirrors, and red circles (?). 20 minutes later I emerged, after having walked into half a dozen mirrors. With a deep breath and a flick of the hair to give myself courage, I approached the PT desk and booked myself in for an assessment.
Imagine my absolute horror to see a drop dead gorgeous male specimen advancing on me armed with a clipboard and a tape measure. ?Kerry?? he said with a smile. I looked wildly around, looking for someone I could donate my name to. Unfortunately, I was the only foreigner in the place. ****.
He measured my height (I think he was trying to start off gently). No problem. Then he weighed me. Errr. Then he waved the tape measure at me, with a disarming grin. I was starting to get a slightly sick feeling in my stomach. Well, I dutifully raised my arms, and twirled, and pretended not to give a damn. But when he broke out the calipers for body fat test, I broke into a cold sweat and started looking for the nearest exit.
I console myself with this fact ? it can?t get any worse. Every trip to the gym will be leaps and bounds better than that ?. And I am now SUPER motivated to boot ;-)
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