Curves: A Real Workout

Ben had just turned 26 when he got took the job. His mom and sister had really gotten into exercise after the excesses of the holidays, and by early February they were working out five times a week. Neither mother nor daughter was particularly overweight, but they enjoyed the time together, and they noticed almost immediately that they had more energy. The two made a routine and were sticking to it.

Barbara and Torey Reynolds were members of Curves, a women-only circuit-based exercise facility. There were several near their home, including one at the strip mall up the road. Ben drove past it everyday on his way to work.

Ben Reynolds had graduated with a degree in Physical Education. A very active and athletic person, Ben had been a varsity cornerback, with short but powerful legs and deep chest capable of absorbing great amounts of air during play. While Ben was an uncommonly talented athlete, he was himself not a particularly handsome lad. With a flat nose and a weak chin, he was nowhere near ugly, but Ben’s sexual experiences in college owed more to his prominence as a top athlete than to his appearance. Still, Ben was fit and smart, and he knew how to make the human body perform at its peak.

In that way, Ben Reynolds was uniquely qualified for the job. Barbara had chatted briefly with the Curves location manager, a mousy woman named Louise, and discovered that the strip mall location on Bayfield Road was in need of a shift manager in the evenings. She immediately thought of her son Ben who, despite perpetual opportunity for employment through his father’s landscaping firm, had yet to find meaningful employment since graduation.

And so it was through this hook-and-crook method that Ben came to become the evening shift manager at Curves Fitness on Bayfield Road. The interview was nearly perfunctory, with the mousy Louise glimpsing briefly at his resume, and focusing primarily on his current physical form, which was nothing short of perfection.

Ben was not reluctant about his new position, but neither did he look forward to it. Having spent the majority of his college tenure in and near the smelly, dank confines of the gym, Ben had hoped for more. Still, the position was undeniably well suited to his training. After a few days of awkward orientation and procedure memorization, Ben felt quickly comfortable in his new environs.

The first day at the front desk, Ben was almost immediately embarrassed by the arrival of his mother and sister. Barbara gave him a humiliating hug and a kiss on the cheek. He was just recovering from the shame when his older sister Torey gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs. He punched her playfully on the shoulder and put on his best face as his female relations walked toward the club’s locker room to change.

Beyond the regular distractions of his mom and sister, Ben’s evening routine was simple and strangely satisfying. Strictly speaking, his duties were limited to manning the front desk, providing limited customer and technical support for patrons using the facilities and equipment, and getting the store prepared for final closing by a manager. This was usually Becky, who sauntered in sometime after 9pm, ogling Ben for a few minutes while z-reading the register, then removing the cash and receipts for tally and deposit offsite. Ben could care less about Becky’s lewd glances; she was married and a mother, and not at all attractive.

Ben gradually began to catch on that a healthy percentage of the patrons of the club spent a little extra time watching him. He found himself helping the same women understand the same pieces of equipment. No one was terribly overt or touchy so far, so he didn’t mind the attention. During his second month working there, he finally had a woman give him her phone number. She was quite a bit older, though rather attractive. Still, he thought it inappropriate, and so he never called her. He was always polite to her and never mentioned it to anyone.

It was a normal, hot July evening when the club’s front door swung open. Ben reluctantly pulled his eyes from a magazine to greet the new arrival. By all accounts, she was reasonably attractive, but not beautiful. The woman was not a member, and Ben began the process of signing her up. He asked for her driver’s license and started copying down the relevant data onto the membership form.

He took in some quick details: name: Sophie Tollers; age: 35; hair: blond; eyes: brown; height: 5’6”; weight: 125. The remainder of the membership process went smoothly, and Ben took Ms. Tollers around the facility for orientation.

“Do you have any questions before you get started?” Ben asked informally.

“Don’t you have some kind of intake method, you know, to help me figure out my ideal body weight and all that?” Sophie Tollers asked back.

“Uh, yes of course. I can take some measurements and do a quick calculation to help determine your body mass index, and your percentage of body fat. That will help us figure out your weight loss goals. Step in here, if you would.”

Ben led Sophie to a small office containing a scale and a small desk. The blinds in the office were closed for privacy.

“Okay, can you stand on the scale for me, please?”

Sophie mounted the scale with trepidation. She knew the number on her license was a lie, but she hated to find out by how much. Ben nonchalantly slid the weights back and forth until the scale balanced. He recorded the number on a chart.

“137 pounds. Thanks, you can step down. I’m going to measure your hlps, if I may.”

Ben produced a measuring tape from a drawer and carefully wrapped it around Sophie’s midsection.

“38 inches. Now the waist: 30 inches. And you’re 5 foot 6, was it?”

Sophie nodded meekly. She wanted to lose the weight, but having her personal details measured and recorded by this chiseled young man was almost unbearable. Ben tapped on a calculator for a moment and then wrote down some results.

“Okay, you have an approximate body fat percentage of 30%. Technically that puts you in the ‘acceptable’ category, but it’s pretty close to what is medically considered ‘obese’.”

“Obese?” Sophie nearly cried. “Jesus, I’m not that fat, am I?”

Ben had heard this a thousand times.

“Ma’am, these are just numbers. Each body is different. I don’t think you look obese at all. This is just a starting place for your exercise plan.”

“Oh, Christ, don’t call me Ma’am, either, please. Makes me sound like an old lady.” Sophie felt herself starting to unravel.

“I’m sorry, Miss. Anyway, let’s aim for a body fat percentage of 21-24%. So, you only need to lose about ten or eleven pounds. That’s not so bad.”

“Right. Thanks. I’m sorry if I freaked out on you.”

“That’s alright. This can be hard to hear. But you’re here, and you’re now a member. You’ve shown the courage to show up. I think you’re going to do great. You’ll shed these pounds in no time.”

Ben led Sophie from the office, escorted her to the locker room and took his leave. The rest of the evening went quietly, and soon closing time approached. He waved to Sophie as she left. She was aglow with perspiration, but she smiled back. Double-checking that Sophie had been the last customer left in the building, Ben locked the front door from inside and started picking up, resetting the machines, rearranging the dumbbell weights in the proper order.

Ben made a sweep of the locker room, finding one sweatsock, a towel and a pair of reading glasses.