Several years ago, perhaps eight, I purchased a three-year membership at a local fitness center. The package included a few appointments with a personal trainer and, as an eager fitee, I went to all of my appointments with her. Then, I stopped going. Going to the gym was so much easier when I went with Har and we would get frozen yogurt immediately after – partners and treats are great fitness motivators.
After three years, my membership expired and I surprisingly received an option to renew my membership for an annual fee of $30.99. I love a good deal, so I mailed in a check. Then, I went to the gym once, maybe twice, that year. Like clockwork, the next September, I got the option to renew again for the same low price. Every year I renew and every year I rarely go. “I don’t want them to think I’m taking it for granted,” I told Tree who purchased a three-year package last year. He has been going a lot more frequently than me and invited me to join him and Awkward for a workout.
It had been a while since I’d been there – at least six months, if not a year – so I agreed to join them. I arrived to find Tree in the free weights section. “I’m heading over to the machines,” I told him and added, “Check this out (pointing to my love handles). I don’t remember seeing these last time I wore this shirt.” I then made my way to the machines to work off the love.
Being that this was my first gym visit since my surgery, I couldn’t lift as much weight as I have in the past. I also noticed a major indentation on my left shoulder as I would lift. Tree came over to join me and I pointed it out to him. “So,” he replied. “So, now I can’t compete in a shoulder contest,” I told him. “Were you planning on doing something like that?” he asked. “No,” I replied, “But I can’t now if the opportunity ever presents.”
I had seen someone using the ab machines and thought that looked like something I could tackle, plus, there were no mirrors nearby to sadden me with my reflection. Tree joined me and, a few minutes later, so did Awkward. “Look how sad your fat is,” Tree told Awkward. Awkward laughed and told me, “He was commenting on my sweat earlier and I told him it was my fat crying.” I looked at Awkward, who was sweaty, then looked at myself. “Hmmm, like me, my fat doesn’t have any emotions.” Sweat free Tree piped in, “Neither does mine.”
After 30 minutes we decided to call it a day. Or, in my book, a year – don’t want to take it for granted.