Personal Trainer

Looking at my posts here, it’s obvious I’m struggling with the extra weight I’ve put on. In the last five years, I gained 25% of my body weight. That’s…not good. Sitting is uncomfortable. Laying down is uncomfortable. Breathing is uncomfortable (and when breathing is uncomfortable, that’s a scary thing). I’ve noticed that whenever I sit down, I cup the fat roll on my stomach with my left arm. Cup it. Like a baby.

So I have decided that as soon as my student fees kick in again, which give me access to UNT’s rec center, I’m going to plant my fat roll baby in that gym and work this weight off. But I’ll need a trainer. Someone to answer to. If left to my own devices, I’m worthless. I will give up as soon as I get tired.¬†There is no way the sperm that made me was the fastest. It must have won on a technicality.

So now the question is, do I want a Bob or a Jillian? If that doesn’t make any sense to you, those are the names of personal trainers from the show The Biggest Loser. Both give you a great workout, both beat you down, but in different ways. Bob is a bit more patient, more sympathetic to your almost guaranteed sudden death by¬†elliptical. Jillian, on the other hand, could give a shit that you’re crying blood. Put on your big-girl panties and deal with it, she might say.

So who do I choose? Which way do I go? It’s truly Tough Love vs. Love? Tough! And as I sit here, sipping a Coke and smacking on salt water taffy, I guess anything would be an improvement.