About That Gym Membership

As I sorted through the mail, I noticed a postcard from the Main Street Gym. I had joined it before the holidays but had forgotten all about it. I’m not a big workout person. I never work out. I thought it might be good to tone my body, so I joined on a whim. The postcard said the gym had changed hands, but all current memberships would be honored. I decided that tomorrow, I would start my journey toward better health.

After getting my stepdaughters off to school, I packed my bag for the gym. My gym shoes, knee-high ballet socks, bikini bottoms, and a crop top t-shirt that was a bit too short. I wore my Daisy Dukes and a sheer tube top, put flip-flops on my feet, and was on my way. The gym was a small private club that took up two storefronts on Main Street downtown. I parked across the street, entered the club, and approached the desk. A tall well, well-built man turned and looked at me.

“Yes, ma’am, can I help you?” he asked, scoping me out.

“Yeah, I have a membership here and want to work out,” I replied.

“Um, you have a membership?” he asked bewildered.

“Yeah, I bought it during the holidays, and I’m just now getting to use it,” I answered him.

“Oh, well, I bought the club, and it’s changed since then,” he explained.

“Well, how did it change? It’s still a gym, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Well, miss, it’s a cop and fireman place now. We don’t have any women work out here,” he explained.

“Oh, so is my membership not valid anymore?” I inquired.

“Well, no, your membership is still valid. We don’t have many machines that a woman would find appealing,” he went on.

“But I can decide if I like it, right?” I asked.

“Sure, if you want,” he said.

I gave him my ID, and he checked his computer while I looked through the gym window. Eight men were working out. All were tall, fit, and handsome.

“OK, Becca, you’re all set. The woman’s locker room is on the left, but some guys may also have their stuff in there,” he alerted me.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling.

I entered the locker room, noticing a few gym bags I imagined belonged to a few guys. After looking in the mirror, I stripped, put on my workout gear, and thought about how I was showing off more skin than I should have. I entered the gym. The clanking of weights and the grunting from the men lifting weights stopped. You could hear a pin drop. I gave the guys a weak wave and smile and headed for the treadmill. I put in my earbuds and started running, trying to blend in. I ran for a few minutes, then became fatigued. I stood bent over, trying to catch my breath. All eyes were on me as I looked for another piece of equipment to use. A man approached me. He was tall, very muscular, and had a beautiful warm smile.

“Hello, I’m Tommy,” he said, extending his hand to me.

“Hi, I’m Becca,” I replied.

I shook his hand; it was warm, and his grip was firm.

“So, do you have a workout plan, or are you just winging it?” he asked.

“Well, I’ve never really worked out before, so I’m not sure what to do next,” I admitted.

“Well, I’m a fireman and a certified trainer. I can help you if you’d like,” he said, smiling.

“Um, yeah, OK, that would be great if you don’t mind,” I replied sheepishly.

“No problem, let me get a training card, and we’ll set you up,” he told me.

He returned with a clipboard and a card of various exercises, and I followed him to a machine while everyone watched.

“Why is everyone staring at me?” I asked.

“I don’t think these guys have ever seen a workout outfit like you’re wearing,” he chuckled.

“Oh, I thought I looked cute,” I answered, confused.

“Becca, you’re beyond cute. These guys are busting out of their jockstraps looking at you,” he laughed.

“I’m sorry,” I said apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied.

Tommy led me to a bench and said we’d work on my abs and stomach.

“Lay down on the bench so your lower back is at the end of the bench,” he ordered.

I did as he requested, and then he instructed me to lift my legs straight up at a ninety-degree angle to my body.