So, I got kicked out of the chubby club.
I know. That’s kind of embarrassing to admit. I would like to tell you that they kicked me out of the chubby club because I lost so much weight. Sadly, I was kicked out for not adhering to the guidelines of the program. Was I keeping a food log? Yes. Did anyone want to see it? No. Did I meet with the nutritionist? Yes. Was I using her advice? Yes. Was I meeting with my personal trainer? Uhhh….no.
I met with him FOUR times, and we worked out once. Once. As in he put me on a machine, set the timer for 20 minutes and walked away. When I was done, he told me that our session was finished. (*The other three meetings consisted of him talking about his diet and the website he created for the gym. He eats Burger King but burns it off playing Dodge Ball.)
Instead of wasting my time arranging my schedule to meet with him, I became a free agent, doing my own thing at the gym. But I was intimidated by it all. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing and I fumbled around and ended up hiding out in the W.O.W. room (Women Only Workout Room – knock off of Curves.) It was great, but I didn’t feel like it was doing me any favors. I quit that, too.
I got my official letter in the mail, informing me that I was no longer a part of the club. Then, I got a bill.
Now, I’m working out at home. I would like to call the suckers up at the gym and say, “You see these Hip Hop Abs?”
I’ve lost six inches off my waist. I’ve lost three inches around my bust (sigh!). I’m nowhere where I need to be, but I want to say that a gym has no more than what you can get at home.
Without a bill.