Early last week I joined a gym and Friday was my first workout. I didn’t join because I want to make people quiver at the sight of my muscular physique, I joined because I’ve had this on my list of things to do since ‘96 and procrastination can only go so far.
I went into the gym at 9:30 and a trainer, I think his name was Bif or Sid or one of those other “strongman” names, wanted to have a talk with me. After entering his office, he asked me what I would like to accomplish by coming to the gym. Without even taking a second to think about the question, I looked at him and said “I want a six pack” The 200 pound mass of pure muscle quickly snapped back by saying, “NO!”
Wait…I can’t get a six pack?!
He went on to try to convince me that there’s more to someone than just a six pack. “Don’t you think that you’d look strange if you had a six pack on the front, but you had fat hanging off the sides?” “Nope.” “You don’t think that you’d look lopsided?” “Nah.” “What if you have the six pack, but your arms are weak?” “Don’t care.” I didn’t budge.
Even though I only wanted a fit chest region, Bif (or Sid) wouldn’t allow me to get that. He took out a sheet of paper that listed of the different muscles that I’ll be working out 2 times a week. He then took me from machine to machine to show me my new routine.
When I am a curvy, lumpy muscle blob, I’ll have him to thank….but I only wanted a six pack.