I’m stressing over picking my trainer for the competition. Not in an analytical way, like my husband would be, but in an ‘I hope I haven’t offended you’ sort of way. See, Chris is the trainer who told me about the Shredder bikini competition. She helped jump start my excitement to get in shape again before the holidays. But now that it’s time to commit to a long-term trainer I want to go to someone else and this makes me feel uncomfortable.
“I don’t understand your dilemma,” said Regina over breakfast. Thursday is our day to hang out since our daughters are in nursery school together and our sons are in a two-hour Spanish immersion program once a week. We were going to use this two hour time slot to exercise around Lady Bird Lake, but chit chatting over ham and cheese omelets with hash browns and buttery biscuits at Waterloo seemed a much more prudent use of our time.
“Well, I don’t know if she makes a commission off the training sessions, so I feel bad she told me about the competition and then I switch to a different trainer on her. She’ll probably be offended. But if she’s in the bikini competition too, I don’t want to be trained by her because that would make me feel weird competing against her. Either way I’ll have to see her all the time at the gym and I just know it’s going to be awkward.”
Regina rolls her eyes at me. She knows I have issues with wanting people’s approval. She exudes confidence and doesn’t have that whole ‘I want to be liked’ complex like I do. She talks me down off my nervousness.
“Lisa, who cares what she thinks? You are paying for a service. Is this woman a body builder?”
“No. This is her first competition.”
“Well, she was fine at getting you started on weight loss. Now you need someone who specializes in body building, since that’s what you’re training for.”
“I know,” she smiled, taking a bite of her biscuit.
Ah, thank God for Regina.
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