So I'm in the section of the gym set aside for trainers to work with their clients, and this guy comes in and starts doing crunches and stretches and whatnot.
I'm on the floor with my trainer, abs quaking as I do planks, and the guy blurts out: "Have you tried the treadmill? A buddy of mine lost 40 pounds just by walking. I lost 30 pounds on the recumbent bike."
Thanks, yeah, I know what a treadmill and a bike are. I just thought I'd try something harder.
I get a good deal of unsolicited exercise advice -- probably because I'm overweight. But just because I am doesn't mean that it's my first time in a gym. Did you see me holding that plank? Did you see me heaving those dumbbells over my head? How about those step-ups?
The condescension is insulting. Yes, I have a ways to go, but that doesn't mean I can't beat the living daylights out of you in an arm-wrestling match.
Underneath this "fluff" is a lot of muscle; the fluff is coming off slowly but surely. And, yes, I'll use the treadmill, and the recumbent bike, and the dumbbells, and the aerobic classes and the medicine ball. I'll go to the gym, I'll go to Jazzercise, I'll do DVDs in my living room. My trainer is giving me great ideas for adding sweat-inducing strength exercises to my routine.
And I'll continue writing about my fitness goals every Friday.
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