Secret Mission 4268: The Burn
Cum girl, I'm tryna get your [body] wet
Work that, lemme see you drip sweat
Cum girl, I'm tryna get your [body] wet
Work that, lemme see you drip sweat
- David Banner
That songs makes my hips move! Oh, sorry I got distracted...
I've mentioned in a few entries that I workout with a personal trainer. I actually started two months ago. When I decided to shop for a trainer, I wanted a Black man. I just knew a Black man would be a better partner for me. I wondered if I would be thought a racist when I went into a gym and said, "Yes, I'm looking for information on personal training. Do you have any Black male trainers?" Or I might look desperate and searching for a pick up. But I was convinced that would be the best match for me.
Anyway I decided to check out the gyms near my house. There's a Bally's (I had been a member for over 5 years then decided to stop wasting my money on something I wasn't using), a 24 Hour Fitness, and a small, privately-owned body builder's gym. After visiting all three I decided to go with the body builder's gym. That's right, no flashy, glamourous meat-market gyms for me. I wanted it raw, gritty.
My first consultation was scheduled with the gym manager - a skinny, white woman from New York. She was very nice and attentive. She took all my measurements, looked at my 2-day diet sample I'd been asked to bring, and went over my goals with me. She told me their practice was to assign everyone two trainers just to keep things different and fresh. We set up appointments for the next week and she told me I'd be working with her and Michael.
It's a small gym, there are only five regular trainers and one part-time. My first two sessions I saw guys but I didn't know which one was Michael. At the end of my second session, Laurette says "Since I'm going out of town, you'll be with Michael for the next week and a half. Let me introduce you." She calls out to the floor and in walks... a really tall Black man! Yea!
Now I told you this is a body builder's gym. All the guys are really buff and pretty big, if not all tall. Except Michael. He's by far the tallest (he's at least 6'4" because when he stands behind me, his chin can rest on my head) but he's also by far the skinniest. He has locs that hang to the middle of his back, multiple tattoos (one on his neck says "psycho"), a tongue piercing, a bright smile and a great sense of humor. He plays bass guitar in a band and has a daughter in middle school. And he kicks my a** every week! He pushes me so hard I wanna cry sometimes but he is also very encouraging (he calls me "principal" instead of "teacher").
I watch Micheal eat and drink those protein bars and shakes all the time. And I'm laughing because he's so skinny. Until the other day. We're working on biceps and he says he's going to pace me. He flips off his sweatshirt and BA-DAYUM! I 'bout dropped my 20-pound dumbell. The man's got guns and pecs and muscles and ripples and bulges all over that thin frame!! Who knew all that was going on under there?! (That's when I realized I'd only seen Michael in long sleeves and pants.) He's sitting next to me in a tank top doing curls and I can't take my eyes off him! I still don't know how many reps I did.
So now when we workout and he's sitting or standing behind me to spot I get all flustered. I've also noticed he's wearing tank tops more often in our sessions now. (Laurette thinks it might be on purpose. She's trying to do the hookup thing for him; says she wants to find him a nice woman.) Tonight we were talking and he was telling me he's getting more ink. I wanted so bad to ask him to lift his shirt and show me all his tatoos but I just smiled secretly at him as I enjoyed the fantasy. I think I might have to go check out a show. Maybe he takes his shirt off at those. Oooh-wee! I need to keep my focus... "Remember why you are at the gym... remember why you are at the gym... remember... remember... remember...
There will be plenty time to focus on strict form and proper repetitions after you open your mouth and speak this man into your existance. You never know, the convo might be as stimulating as the workouts themself.
say something
say something
Posted by
The Brown Blogger |
1:07 AM, November 05, 2005
I agree. You have to say something.
Posted by
Anonymous |
5:06 PM, November 06, 2005