So two weeks ago as part of my let’s stop being a fat ass initiative, I joined a gym. It’s one of those new gyms that use resistance training and medicine balls instead of weights and treadmills. Because studies show that treadmills are intimidating. Studies also show that I have neither the strength nor knowledge needed to operate gym equipment.
So to join this gym I put $200 on my AMEX that I didn’t have, dug out my yoga pants and sports bras and made a valiant effort not to look like a complete ass.
The classes I’ve been taking are pretty mixed. You’ve got newbs like me who haven’t worked out since seventh grade. (What? Dodgeball counts!) And then you’ve got people who do this class every day, three times a day, for the past four years. They have abs. They have muscles in their arms. When they do their sit-ups—there isn’t an ounce of fat in their mid-section. I hate them for it, but at the same time, it’s damn inspiring.
But the most motivating factor at the gym I work out at is the rack.
See, the gym is run by these two women who are probably the fittest women I’ve ever seen. And not in a gross overly-muscled way—but in a size zero, sculpted buttocks kind of way. And to show of the fruits of their labors they created a clothing line of gorgeous, chic athletic wear. It’s the kind of clothing that if you threw it on to go to Publix, people would gather behind you in the candy isle and say, “She must be getting that for a friend.”
I want to live in these clothes. And there’s only one thing stopping me.
They’re all extra-smalls.
This, if you stop to think about it, is an excellent marketing strategy for several reasons. It ensures that anyone wearing the gym’s brand is representing the results of a hard workout. I mean, I really don’t think people want to join a gym when they see someone sitting in McDonald’s with love handles hanging out of their extra-large Fitness T-Shirt. Secondly, it provides motivation. That’s certainly the draw for me. I’m rowing and I’m staring and I’m thinking to myself when I wear those crop tees, no one is going to know that I can eat fourteen tacos in one sitting.
Which is actually kind of a shame, because it’s one of my greatest achievements.