Nearly 50 pounds of gelatinous goo

A week ago I first met my trainer Vicky at the local community center gym.  I was skeptical about the need for a trainer until I realized my Wii Me wasn't getting any smaller.  In fact, it appears that he even got shorter, or perhaps my picture tube is on the fritz.  I could swear he seems a bit rounder.  I'll have to call a t.v. repair technician.  And yes, I do have a picture tube, my Sony is about twenty-five years old.


Adding a trainer to my regiment has been very beneficial.  Since first meeting last Friday, I am proud to announce that after today at 2:00, I will have seen a 100% increase in my gym time this week.  As much as I love my Wii Trainer, her motivational techniques did not come even close to this kind of result.


While the live version of a trainer is much more enjoyable than the virtual one, it appears that they may have undergone similar training.  When Vicky asked me to stand still to check my posture she immediately noticed my lack of balance.  I mentioned to her that was the same thing my Wii Trainer noticed.  Vicky suggested that I buy new shoes because it seems that I have a bowled over second position stance that reeks havoc on my balance and my shoes.  


Which reminded me that on a recent trip to D.C., I arrived wearing my sports coat over a polo shirt since I didn't bring a garment bag on the plane.  I'm on my way back from a briefing before we go to the Hill and I happened to see this fellow in the mirror - I swear it is the spit'n image of Michael Moore - a hunched over tired looking man with an axe to grind wearing an extra large sports coat, ball cap and splayed out flat footed sneakers.  The only thing missing was a camera crew and about twelve inches.

So I tell Vicky that I don't use shoes on the Wii.  "Oh," she said, just like the concerned surprise that the Wii has when I stand on it to get weighed.  "You may still want to get new shoes," she suggests.


Vicky points out that her BMI measurements pretty much approximate those of the Wii.  The main difference is that when she is done she doesn't draw a short plump caricature of me, rather she asks me to look in the mirror.  Which I might say, is much more effective if not a bit depressing.  My Wii Me always seems to be smiling, not so the real me.  Especially after the mirror.  O.k. so we have our work cut out for us - me.


Vicky goes on to suggest, "would you like to try the calipers?"  I ask if most people do this, and she says that most haven't got the fortitude for it.  But she thinks that perhaps I do.  I think about if for a minute.  ". . . and the truth shall set you free," John 8:32.  Of course when I was thinking this through I had no idea that this saying is attributed to Jesus as written down by John - thank you Google, er I mean All Saints Episcopal Church.  Being the truth seeker that I am, I ask Vicky to bring on the calipers.


A big pinch on my arm, a bigger pinch on my side and then the pinch of all pinches, the belly button pinch.  I'm not sure if I was giggling in response to the cold metal on my skin or the unbelievably large amount of skin being pressed between the calipers.  I really should have been crying.


After to doing a few calculations.  Vicky announce that I have 22.6% body fat.  That doesn't sound so bad.  That must mean I have 77.4% muscle, bone, and innards.  Then she lets the hammer drop, "Erich that is 47.46 pounds of fat for your 210 pounds of body weight."  Hmmm, I think to myself.  That is how much my six year-old daughter Antonia weighs.  It seems a bit excessive.  I mean I know she feels pretty heavy when she sits on my shoulders.  Kind of puts it all into perspective.


Nearly 50 pounds of gelatinous goo is weighing me down.  That can't be good.


With that I'm off to the gym to see Vicky for training day number 2.