The Gym: Part 1

Hi Britt,

I’m emailing you because I’m a trainer at Equinox in Chestnut Hill and I want to welcome you to the club.

I’m also contacting you to schedule your Equifit fitness assessment that’s included as part of your membership. It’s an hour long session where we review your goals and perform several tests to determine your current fitness level. I can then use this info to create a custom workout plan for you.

With that being said: what are you currently training for?

Reply to this email and let me know, then maybe we can set something up.




Hi David!

I’m largely free in the mornings. Except when I’m not. Equinox is lovely– all shiny and new. It would probably be perfect for someone who likes exercise. I, however, loathe it. Dread it. Honestly, if I could be healthy and skinny couch-bound with potato chips, life would be dreamy. But since I’m vain and human, hey… let’s exercise!

My fitness level is 1, or whatever sad sack slug dials in at. Picture a pack-a-day smoker with arthritis. That’s me. Except I look like someone who is totally healthy. I fake fitness with yoga clothes and a high ponytail.

I imagine gym enthusiasts return this email with chipper goals of marathon-running and keep-butt-off-cycle dreams and other nonsense. My goal is seam blow-out prevention. I have a closet full of really pretty little dresses it would be devastating to leave hanging there, ignored by the empty promises of a chubby girl who won’t stop eating Ruffles.

So, let’s spend a morning trying out all of the machines I’ll never use! Or assess my level of slug-ness. Whatever.

Your move, chief.


Hey Britt

Thank you for the great email! I think I see where you’re coming from.

Are you free tomorrow at 10am or Thursday at 9am by any chance?


Garden club on Wednesday. Bible Study Thursday. This is the Jesus-loving green thumb you’re dealing with. Halloween? I’m free Friday until early afternoon.


I can do Halloween at 10am does that work?


Yup. Let’s scare the shit outta my cellulite.

Instruments of torture

Instruments of torture

13 responses

  1. Trainers and dentists. Both licensed administrators of torture, and they revel in it. I have never known anyone who had an assessment with a trainer and was able to comfortable get on and off the toilet for the next 5 days.

    Put on your sneakers and go for a brisk walk or light jog, or just get on the treadmill in your basement. Then tell David to take a hike, literally.

    Love you.

    Zealot Sister


    • It is similar: the trainer and the dentist. I cannot fake that I never floss any more than I’ll be able to convince David that I ever engage in anything called cardio. I’m taking a hike if he pulls out those let’s-measure-your-composite-fatness calipers.

  2. I wish you luck in your exercise endeavors! I shall live vicariously through you! OK? I have worked with trainers before….I’m just not that motivated (even with beautiful clothes hanging in my closet I will probably never wear again) *sigh* Break a leg! Or whatever you say…. LOL! 😀

  3. Pingback: Weekly Round Up: It’s the End of October but NOT the End of Breast Cancer! | Journeying Beyond Breast Cancer

    • Darling Beth. That post is beautiful and had me nodding and near tears. It’s the loss of trust in my body I mourn, too. I also swim, and congratulate myself on each lap–the strength of this body that has been through so much. But I’m lying, too. My prayers are full of gratitude for a body that is (currently) healthy, but how much longer does the waiting-for-the-other-shoe-drop last? Forever? I think it might be forever. Thanks for stopping by and for giving me the gift of your essay. xoxo

  4. Pingback: The Gym: Part II | Blooms and Bubbles

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