Posts Tagged ‘gym

I love my trainer but he is dumb as fuck. At least when it comes to relationships.

For an update: wedding’s off, officially.

They were supposed to go to Vegas for his birthday… that’s not happening either. She got ‘called into a work conference.’  Um… I just let it go, but how can he believe this shit? So he’s going to Vegas by himself.

So then, he tells me she’s moving out, because her dad said she had to concentrate on school and move onto campus.

Me, very confused: “I thought she was graduating?”

Him: “uh… no.”


Him: “You know, she just had so much stress planning this wedding…”

Holy hell dude. Again. When you set the wedding date, did she not think of what she was doing in the time leading up to said date?

We did chat about other stuff, my whole work out session isn’t therapy hour, thank god.

And at some point, he said to me, “Get me a job where you work so we can travel together.”

Me: “Ha. Sure, I’ll call in all my favors and see if you can by my personal trainer while we travel the world.”

He laughed and says: “Yeah, so it’s not happening, but come on, we’d have so much fun together. You know it’d be a good time.”

Oh… he doesn’t even know. I would *break* him…. in the best possible way. 🙂





Saturday morning I woke up with diarrhea. I’ve mentioned in this blog before that I have diarrheal IBS – have had it for 20 years and it’s a condition I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

It started after a trip to India when I was 15. We’d been there for the whole summer and on the last day, I shit myself.  I couldn’t even get to the bathroom in time. We’re packing for the plane ride home, mom’s yelling at me (like I did it on purpose) and the whole f’ing family knows. I was SO embarrassed.

And after that, my stomach was never the same (before there had ever been any studies, I KNEW that what happened on that trip was what caused my subsequent IBS.) I have to be incredibly careful when I eat, I’m never sure what’ll set it off  — I can eat pizza one day and be fine, have the same pizza the next day and be sick to my stomach – and have spent more time in my bathroom, cramping and crying and feeling like I’m dying, than I care to admit.

It’s hard to explain to people who don’t understand or have never dealt with it. It’s not just “an upset tummy.” It’s an upset tummy on steroids. It makes me want to die, and half the time I feel like I am – and then I start to pray that I don’t die sitting on my toilet cause that’s not how I want the cops to find me.

It feels like I’m shitting out my insides, and when I’m done, there is nothing in my body. I have no energy and no nutrients and am physically exhausted. All I want to do is lay in bed and sleep until I feel like I can eat again without my body trying to expel everything, but that’s no way to live life, so I push through and do the daily things I would if I wasn’t sick, just usually at a slower pace.

(So… imagine how I felt Saturday night – after the diarrhea, after the workout, after the hike and it’s 7pm and we still hadn’t eaten. I was starving and trying not to be cranky and just H.U.N.G.R.Y.. I mentioned to “the Bod” after the hike that I was tired, and he said, “Maybe you should’ve eaten lunch.” As I said to him, “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to have to shit in the woods so I thought that was a bad idea.”)

Luckily, my friend are all awesome and understand that if I’m gone for 30 minutes at a time, I’m probably sick and it’s best to leave me alone. I’m super open about my bowel issues because I have to be – what’s the most common first date? Dinner and drinks. And I never know if dinner will upset my stomach or not, so I tend to give my dates a warning. It’s not the most romantic discussion to have, but a necessary one when you’re dating me.  I carry Immodium everywhere I go. I’m never without it.

So Saturday, after I’d finished being sick all morning, I decided to still go in for my training session and just ask him to go easy. I found out a few sessions ago that my trainer has Crohn’s Disease, so we’ve discussed our various stomach issues since then.

When I got there, he asked, as he always does: “Hey! How are you??”

And all I had to say was, “My IBS flared up this morning. I can’t do abs today and need to take it easy.”

Him: “Sure, no problem. We’ll skip the endurance stuff, do some easy legs and still get you worked out.”

Awesome. Just awesome.

So then we’re just chatting about weight, how it fluctuates and how we feel about it. I told him that this 10 lb weight gain I’ve had is because, for about 2 years now, my IBS hasn’t been as bad as it was. My body actually is holding on to food and nutrition and although it’s annoying I’ve gained the weight, it’s the first time in 20 years I feel healthy. I’m not starving all the time. I can eat and although I still worry and it still flares up, it’s been far less of an issue than it has been before. I pray it stays this way.

He told me how when he gets his Crohn’s flare ups, he loses a lot of weight and his 6-pack shows even more – which some people find attractive and he hates, because it means he’s sick:

“If my abs are showing that much, it means I’m not doing well.”

And I understood completely because 2 years ago, I came back from a trip to Kenya.  I was sick while there and for MONTHS afterwards, couldn’t keep anything in my body. I would literally eat and shit it out within 10 minutes (and for those who think that’s impossible…it’s not). There was nothing in my system and there was nothing the doctors could do for me.

It was July and bathing suit season and all I heard from everyone was:

“Wow. You look great! Your stomach is so flat!!!”

And there’s nothing I could say but “Thanks” when really what I wanted to say was:


Cause, sure, I may have looked hot – but I was completely unhealthy and not able to keep anything in and tired all the time and not digesting. And  there’s no way to understand how it feels to look ‘hot’ but feel awful, unless you’ve been through it… and he has.

So when he told me how he felt when his abs show, I knew exactly what he meant, and he knew how I felt that even though I may have looked amazing, I wasn’t happy.

And to be able to discuss that with someone who actually understands is rare (thankfully) – but the fact that he’s my trainer makes me even more grateful, because he gets it. He gets my body and he gets my worries and he gets the issues, without being grossed out about it.

The weird part of this is, after those months and months of being sick, something happened and I could almost feel a literal change in my body – whatever was causing my IBS  – it wasn’t/isn’t gone, but it definitely wasn’t the same as it was. I can’t explain it. But I knew when that bout of “traveler’s induced IBS” was finished, there was something different. I knock on wood daily that it stays this way and doesn’t come back the way it used to be.

But the best part of this whole downer of a story is, while we’re talking about this and I’m doing my squats is he looks me up and down, with the ‘extra’ weight on me, and says:

“Yeah. You’re definitely fine. You’ve got nothing to worry about. 80% of the people in this gym would love to look like you.”

Damn. I am pretty sure a few drinks and we could get this thing done. And by ‘this thing’ I totally mean sex. With me. I wouldn’t even comment on how hot his abs are. 😉


So today was the half-way point in my sessions.  We took measurements at the beginning, and this was the first time since then that we were taking measurements again.

To sum it up (all of this is by .5 to 1 inch changes): biceps got smaller, triceps got bigger, thighs got smaller, calves got smaller, chest got slightly smaller, waist smaller, hips no change.

I was not that excited about the results, but he totally was. He said I’m ‘leaning out’ – and he thought it was great. Plus he said I’m getting stronger (which I noticed) and he said although I can’t see the changes on my own body, there’s a definite difference from the first day I walked in.

My body fat??? That used to be 31.7%??? UP TO 32.6%.

What. The. Fuck.

But, I also ‘lost’ 2 lbs (I don’t think I lost anything, really), and the boobs stayed the same – so a smaller denominator with the same numerator results in a bigger body fat percentage. At least, that’s what I think. Maybe I just got fatter.

SO THEN… we’re chatting and he’s talking about how I refuse to do sprints.

I couldn’t hold it in, and just say: “Ohmygod. I have to wear TWO sports bras just for the stuff we do in here. I’d have to wear SIX if you made me do sprints. I cannot do them.”

He starts to laugh, and says, “Well, I mean they’re not a bad thing. There are some perks to them being that size.”

Which made me giggle, and he got flustered and lost count of my leg raises.

I LOVE when I make him flustered. 😉



So I had my 12th session today – that’s 12 30-minute sessions. We’ve spent 6 hours together, talking about random stuff. Tonight we chatted about an upcoming vacation:

Him: “I’m heading to Vegas in May.”

Me: “That’s cool – boys trip?”

Him: “Um… no, friends.”

Later on, during tricep dips, we were just chatting about our weekends, and I asked him something about the trip, and I can’t remember what it was because of his answer:

Well… um… I’m … getting married in July.


I knew he had a DOG before I knew he had a fucking fiance.

Luckily,  I didn’t have a weight in my hand because I would’ve dropped it. I mean, at no point did he ever say, “Oh, me and my fiance did this…” OR “Yeah, I went to dinner, my girlfriend couldn’t come…” OR “Yeah, I’m engaged” OR “I hung out alone because my girl had to work.”


So, I obligingly ask about her, because I have to (even though he completely was SO hesitant to even tell me he’s getting married) – she’s JUST GRADUATING FROM COLLEGE. She’s like 22. Goddamn!

AND THEN! THEY ONLY SEE EACH OTHER 2x / WEEK! He said that she’s busy with school and then works at the bar (uh …) and that they only get to hang out the nights she’s home before 2am. According to him, they’re both so career driven and he’s glad about that, because he’s not paying her school loans (which all I could think was, Thank God).

What. The. Fuck.  The only reason they’re still together is because they don’t see each other enough to actually fight. Also, he’s like 26, max. We KNOW how this is going to end.

I’m still stunned, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I mean, it doesn’t change anything – I’ll still have my little fantasy about hooking up with him, and he’ll continue to never mention this girl he loves.


Had a session yesterday with my trainer, and I’m doing sit-ups on that stupid incline bench holding a 10 lb weight. I’m always scared I’m going to drop said weight onto my face, body, somewhere. It doesn’t help that he makes me laugh while I’m doing these:

Me: “What’d you do last night?”

Him: “Just went to this little place for dinner, sat at the bar*, had some tequila and beer. But I left early because the cops come out and I didn’t want to be driving when they’re looking for people. And, I didn’t want to leave my car there, because it’s sort of ghetto just a block over. I didn’t want the Mexicans stealing it.”

Me (pulling myself up, laughing): “You are SO racist!”

Him: “No! I don’t have anything against Mexicans! It’s just that they’d steal my car!”

I had the giggles, which is really not conducive for doing any sort of situp. Also, his defense of his non-racism is not helping his cause, but it is true in that neighborhood that the car probably would be stolen. By which race, I’m not sure, but stolen definitely. *Also, every time he tells me a story, he’s by himself. So no girlfriend. More weirdly, no friends either.

So we move on with the session and, of course, there’s an older guy (in really good shape) using this arm bench-press machine with a massive amount of weight on it.  My trainer just looks at me, smirks, and says: “Some people make me laugh.” SUPER LOUDLY.

Like, come on. This guy can totally figure out that you mean him! So I told him to be quiet, as I have to do multiple times each sessions.

Him: “But he’s got no extension! He’s not even using it right!”

Me: “Fine, but unless you’re going to help him, I don’t think making fun of him is very nice. God. You’re mean and racist!!!”






So even though my trainer is loud as fuck, I adore him. It helps that he’s easy on the eyes and I actually enjoy chatting with him, when he’s not broadcasting my information for the entire gym to hear.

Saturday, I went in for my session with him and we discussed ‘boobgate.’ He apologized, again, and we talked about how I maybe won’t see the percentage weight loss that he had thought I would. He also thanked me for bringing it up, because apparently, no one else has ever mentioned this before… good thing I have no filter.

Anyway, as I’m doing these awful chair squats, I see an older lady doing pull-ups. I whisper to him: “That’s what I want to do! I want to be able to do a pull-up!!!”


Me (quietly): “Shut up! You are so loud. She’s not deaf! Is her form really that bad?”

Him (loudly): “YES!”

And then he says, in the same loud voice (but I’ll save you from reading in all-caps):

“But you can’t always tell people that they doing something wrong, especially older ones. They get really offended when you’re just trying to help! It’s the testosterone when they’re working out and they don’t want to hear it. Old people just want to do what they’ve always done.”

Ok, I got the giggles. First of all, SHE CAN TOTALLY HEAR HIM! Secondly, dude, she’s not ANCIENT! And she’s trying hard to get a work out in… but he was not even going to bother going over to help, because he’s had people complain about that before (which, come on, I can totally understand why someone would complain).

I just looked at him, still giggling, and said: “She can hear you, you know. Jesus. When will you learn to be quieter?!?! Some old person’s gonna kick your ass.”  He was laughing too by then.

I like to imagine this scenario in mind almost exactly how it happened, except we’re at my place, naked, about to have sex. So basically, in no way exactly how it happened. 😉   In my delusional world, he’s thinking the same thing.

Last night, after finishing up a really good workout with my loud trainer, we went to schedule our next meeting.

As we’re doing so, I tell him that I haven’t noticed any weight loss. His response was that I should be looking at body fat percentage, not weight.

So I took this as my segue into telling him how I feel about the size of my boobs and that they contribute to my overall body fat percentage AND that since they are so big, and always have been so big, that I don’t think they should contribute to my baseline percentage. Basically, they’re not going away – they’ve always been as big as they are.  It’s been about 15 years with them, I don’t gain or lose in my chest and I don’t think it’s fair that they mathematically count against me.

So I told him, in a quiet voice, that obviously my breasts are rather large and they don’t change size, and that perhaps we should take that into account, because I would never lose the amount of body fat he wants me to.

Me: “Yes…”
Me: “Yeah, I understand, but I’m trying to tell you that they don’t change. They are always like this.”


I was SO PISSED. First of all, that’s not what I’m saying and secondly, SHUT THE FUCK UP. I don’t need the whole gym to know we’re talking about my damn boobs.

So I told him that: “Could you quit yelling my shit out loud? It’s embarrassing. Also, we’re not on the same page, so we can stop this discussion anyway.”

That got to him, and we finally talked about MY body and what I thought was the problem. He apologized for being so fucking loud. Did he not see me turning bright red? It’s one thing to talk about my boobs in a bar. It’s another to make it the loudest conversation in a gym.

He did say, though, that he would research it and talk to a female trainer to see what her thoughts were. That’s fine, and I was happy with that – we confirmed for Saturday. After I got home, we texted a little bit back and forth after and he apologized profusely for being such a loud asshole: “You’re not the first to tell me I’m loud. I’m so sorry. I have a tendency to holler”

My response: “You can holler at me when I have bad form, but not when we’re talking about my boobs.”

It’s embarrassing enough to have to discuss this with someone I don’t know very well. But then, on top of all of that, I have to worry that he’s going to broadcast it to the entire fucking gym. And honestly, given that everyone’s got an iPod in their ears, they probably don’t care… but I do.

I’ll see him Saturday for my leg workout and talk to him then, let’s see how quiet he is  😉



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