I’m still going to boot camp three days a week and it’s very effective. I’m sweaty and gross by the time I leave so I think that is a good measure of any workout session. Unfortunately for me Trainer Lady went and got herself a day job, and therefore is not running the boot camps anymore. She is still offering one-on-one sessions thank god, but running the boot camps three times a week has been passed to another trainer. A DUDE no less.
At first I kind of liked him. He was so hilariously awkward that it was sort of charming. Watching some big muscle-head guy stand at the front of a gym leading a group of mom-types in a fitness class was providing a new level of amusement to my exercise routine. He also plays really loud circa 1995 alternative rock music which I also like. It’s sort of like being 23 again and back in my favorite bar shaking my fabulous ass. My ass was fabulous in 1995.
The last few classes, however, I have been reminded. He’s a guy. A fitness trainer guy. Guys, especially the type of guys who become personal trainers, don’t like fat chicks. I love Trainer Lady not because she is a great trainer (she is), but because she didn’t pass judgment on me when I showed up on her doorstep all fat and out of shape and defeated. She accepted me for where I was and dug in. And, a couple of weeks ago when we did my three month reassessment and had discovered that I had lost twenty pounds and sixteen inches, she was genuinely happy for me. Trainer Lady has played a big part in my success so far. I don't even know her very well, but I somehow still want to do her proud. I love her.
I’m not feeling the love from Trainer Dude. He is trying his best to mask his distaste for me (as resident fat chick in boot camp class), but he’s not very good at it. I’m pretty sure I’m the butt of a few jokes when he goes home to whoever he goes home too. Whoever that person may be, my money is on them not being a fat chick.
You know, I honestly don’t care what he thinks of me. I don’t need to like this guy; I just need him to lead me through some exercise three times a week. The thing that does bother me is that in his subtle way he drives home the fact that I’m the fat chick. He reminds me that more often than not I’m the chick who is standing next to the hot chicks being completely ignored by some random asshole. I don’t need or want attention from assholes, I just don’t want to be the fat chick anymore. Yes, I know I’m the fat chick. That’s why I’m in that fucking exercise class in the first place.
Well, you know what Trainer Dude? You’re ugly* and you have stupid clothes. So there. I’m fat and immature. Deal.
I lost two pounds this week. I have 36.5 to go.
*He's not really ugly - he's just a regular guy. I kind of feel bad writing that, but not quite bad enough to remove it. After a talk with myself I settled on a disclaimer. I totally stand by the stupid clothes comment though.