No Pain, No Gain

Chapter One Lydia waited for the numbers on the bathroom scale to register. No way. No way. There’s no way. She stepped off the scale and waited for it to clear. When she stepped on again, the reading was the same. She dropped her silk robe and turned to see a full view of herself in the mirror. Her breasts looked even fuller than they did just a week ago. If that were the only change, well, that was something she could live with. But now not a single pair of pants fit comfortably. Exactly two months to the day since she’d quit smoking, and this was the reward? She hadn’t had alcohol in months, so that wasn’t it. And it wasn’t pregnancy; her husband hadn’t been near her in several months. She tugged at the wedding ring on her left hand. It was now too tight on her finger. When Kevin returned from work that evening, she told him she needed a personal trainer. He shrugged, and stepped outside to the porch to smoke a cigarette. It was enough approval for Lydia to start looking. Experience told her cost wasn’t an issue for him as long as she was occupied with some sort of project. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out an odd combination of leftovers. They’d started calling it a refrigerator dump dinner when she reheated anything and everything from the prior week’s meals. She took the lids off and began microwaving. Kevin stepped in from the patio a few minutes later and said, “A guy at work said he goes to a fitness place at a shopping center around here.” Lydia said over her shoulder, “Where?” “Dunno,” he said. “But the trainer’s supposedly really good.” “Well, do you know his name?” “No. Musclehead, maybe.” “Do you at least know the name of the gym?” “It’s a small place, not a gym. And the guy’s supposedly good,” he said. Lydia started slicing tomatoes for their salads, and waited for him to continue. She turned around and sighed when she saw him sitting on the couch studying the night’s football schedule. “So there’s some guy at work who works out with some good trainer around here at some small place at some shopping center?” Kevin stretched out on the couch and turned on the television. “That’s all I know,” he said. “Whatever,” she said, under her breath. “I’ll find it myself. Like everything.” *** “This is Blake. You called my training studio.” “Oh. Wow. That was fast. Thanks for returning my call so quickly,” Lydia said. “What can I do for you?” he asked. He sounded a bit rushed, and not particularly friendly. “Oh, um, I quit smoking. I don’t know what’s going on. I mean, I do, it’s just that I had no idea it would happen this fast.” “That what would happen?” “It, like, came out of nowhere. The weight gain. It’s as if —” “When did you quit?” he asked. “Two months ago,” she said. “Cold turkey?” “Well, not really, I guess. I used the gum, and my doctor prescribed an anti-depressant. I mean, I wasn’t depressed, but the drug has been shown to help with ... well, I don’t know how much info you want.” “We don’t have to go into all of it now, but you will have to fill out paperwork if I agree to train you. I’ll need to know all medications you’re on,” he said. “Oh, okay, I —” “People who quit smoking can experience as much as a fifteen-percent decrease in rate of metabolism,” he said. “That much? You know, it does feel like —” “Are you eating more?” he asked. “I don’t think so, but —” “What about alcohol?” he asked. “No, I haven’t had alcohol since —” “Good. Keep it that way. If I agree to train you, you won’t be allowed a single drop of alcohol.” “Well, I haven’t had any in a while.” “When can you come in?” “Does that mean you’ll train me?” “No. When can you come in for an interview?” She heard him thumbing through papers, probably turning pages of his calendar. She realized the conversation had already tired her in a strange way, and enduring more of his rapid-fire style that afternoon wasn’t all that appealing. “I can come in sometime later this week,” she said. “Why not today? Why is your health not important enough for you to address the problems you’re having as soon as possible?” “Today? Oh ... well ... that’s so soon. I kind of wanted —” “Look, Ms. McConnell, is it?” “You can call me Lydia,” she said. “There is a great demand for my services, and I only accept and retain the most committed clients. Whether or not my methods are for you remains to be seen. But the only way to find out is for us to meet and discuss your goals, and the only way for you to meet those goals is to stop sabotaging your weight loss.” “I understand,” she said. But she could sense in his silence that he wasn’t convinced. “I really do!” “What you’re doing isn’t working, Ms. McConnell. Am I correct?” “As I said—” “Can you be at my studio at three?” he asked. Lydia took a deep breath and reconciled herself to the loss of what might have been a relaxing afternoon by the pool. “Yeah. Sure.” “Do you know where I am?” he asked. “My nail tech said you were behind Jemelka’s Market.” “That’s exactly right. Look for the sign on the side of the building that says BPT Studio. There’s plenty of parking. If the front door’s locked, just knock and wait a second for me to come and open it.” “Okay,” she said. “Will do.” “Fine. See you at three,” he said. “Oh, wait! What do I wear?” she asked. “I’ll need to see your body. Dress accordingly. See you soon, Ms. McConnell.” The line went silent. “Hello?” She waited a few seconds. “Hello?” She looked at the display to confirm he’d disconnected the call. Wow, she thought, snapping her cell phone shut. Someone’s pretty damned impressed with himself. But his approach with prospects obviously worked, she reasoned. After all, she was about to change clothes and go interview with him, even though it was just about the last thing she felt like doing this afternoon. And she wouldn’t be making a decision about whether or not to train with him; it would be the other way around. Now to find something to wear that still fit.