Today marks the first day of my training with a trainer. Who would have thought that I would succumb to being a gym freak? Me? At a gym? Looking like a hamster trapped in a glass cage? A few years ago, you would not see me at the gym much, even though I had a corporate gym membership.
Let me tell you how I ended up, in what I used to call "the glass cage."
Run, Rabbit, Run...
One fateful night, I was feeling peckish and it was snowing. I decided to run to Duane Reade (in New York, there is a Duane Reade almost every three blocks). Duane Reade is similar to a 7-Eleven in Singapore. I ventured into the cookies department and picked out this particular brand of Italian biscuits-Stella D’Oro Margherite made in the Bronx, New York.
As it was two packs for five dollars, I thought this was a great deal especially since I was not going to buy them again. Or so I thought. That very night, my husband and I finished all twenty sticks in the pack. Each stick was about as long as an iPhone, and approximately half the thickness.
The Disco Biscuits!
Caloric count: 65 calories per stick. We didn’t look at the information on the back until we had finished the whole packet. It is very delicious. It is not pretentious. It is a simple yet flavorful old-school biscuit. It is not as heavy as shortbread. It is light and fluffy akin to a chiffon cake, but has the texture of a regular biscuit. It is not too sweet and does not leave you satiated.
Within weeks, I had purchased 24 packets and counting. My jeans were tighter and tighter as I could chomp down a pack in a day. As I typed the beginning of this story, I had a biscuit in my mouth. This biscuit could make me salivate just thinking about it.
The 2 very important objects in my life.
I had three options:
1. Keep buying and get sick of it after stuffing my face silly. Not working. Next option please.
2. Stop buying immediately. Tried cold turkey but didn’t help. I would sit in church and dream about the biscuit during the priest’s sermon.
3. Join a gym to counter the calorie and fat intake.
I chose option 3. I joined the nearest gym and decided to enjoy my biscuit but work out. I have been to the gym everyday for 10 days now. Today I upped the ante by meeting a personal trainer to fight the flab.
In retrospect, I did not foresee that a $2.50 per pack of biscuits would cost me $145 per month at the gym. Obviously, the one year away from the banking industry has robbed me of the ability to count or read value!
My trainer, CJ, was intimidating. I had to allow him to use calipers to pinch my fat on my triceps, abdomen and thigh. He was allowed into the secret mysterious world of my weight and height; furthermore, he could comment on anything he wanted. How terrifying. As he did test after test, the suspense nearly killed me. Anyhow, I was rather shocked by my results. My body fat ratio was below average! My resting heart rate is 45 beats per minute, which was a beat away from the “Elite” category in my age group! I am trim and fit, biscuit or not. The only few points I need to work on are improving flexibility in my hip flexors (wherever they are), strengthening my core muscles and losing some weight (I added the last point myself as I like to be skinny).
With CJ's implicit backing, I skipped gleefully home, the whole time dreaming about gorging "the Disco Biscuit". However, the truth is my jeans have been feeling very tight of late. Perhaps it is a hormonal time and I am suffering from water retention. Or perhaps it is a permanent condition.
The reality is, denial is a beautiful thing.
Fat, I am not.
Weight put on, I surely have.
Biscuits I will eat
Life I will enjoy.
*Some pictures taken from the internet*
