That embarrasing moment when…

Lesson Learned: Never go to the gym with hairy armpits because it might be the day two VERY hot personal trainers ask if you want a personal training session for free. Let me explain. First, it was definitely not one of those free complimentary sessions where they tell you how much you need to buy time with a trainer.

So there I was, running so gracefully (not) on the treadmill as I have been for the past 5 months. I am currently training for a full marathon, which is actually this weekend, making my cardio/running workouts my main priority. So I am on the treadmill, minding my own business, when a very fit man approaches me and asks if I want a personal training session. I am slightly caught off guard, but I explain that I am just here for a run and need to get my training in. He continues to push me by saying their original attendee cancelled and it will be of no cost. My thoughts were okay, what the hell. I could use a little muscle building. In any case, I wonder why they chose me out of all the people here at this packed gym in the heart of West LA. It is either two reasons:

  1. They saw a pretty girl running on the treadmill and they needed an excuse to come talk to me.
  2. They saw a heavier girl running on the treadmill and thought she could use some help.

The jury is out, but I would hope it is thought number one, however I know what I look like while running. It is not necessarily the most attractive thing anyone would see.

Either way, I followed the man to meet the trainer I would be working with. To my shock, I was not working with just one attractive trainer, but two. It was my lucky day. Hard work really does pay off and I was rewarded with a luxury I am too cheap to buy and some eye candy while I am at it. Horror strikes and I realize one tiny detail I forgot about during all the glory and basking in feeling of being the “chosen one.” What was something that was so horrible that would abruptly take me from my happy place? Let’s just say, I am a waxer and I wax everything, including my armpits. The following day was my waxing appointment, and what is worse, I was wearing a tank top. This was awful and poetic justice I suppose, but actually it was just something that WOULD happen to me. I thought maybe we will work on legs since they saw me running. If that happened I wouldn’t have to worry about raising my arms and the slightest possibility of seeing a non-groomed and unkempt version of myself.

But no, that wouldn’t be my luck. They were going to focus my half an hour on…ABS and ARMS. There was plenty of arms being raised. I tried to smooth it out with my charm and charisma, but those traits aren’t always so clear to people and my personality may come off as weird. At this point I will never know. I finished the training session with flaming red cheeks, which were probably from embarrassment and exhaustion. They take my measurements, forcing me to raise my arms again. I crack a few jokes and then the get exactly what they want from me. I buy personal training sessions. It was definitely just a consult and I now will be showing my face to that place at least once a week, but thankfully with another trainer. Lesson learned, I will just now purposely make sure when I see those two dapper men that I wave to them with arms held high.




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