Friday Fabü

This issue, I’m writing about something that might shock you: fitness. Take a moment to steady yourself. Sip some water. Take slow, deep, breaths. You OK? Good. Let’s continue.

I reiterate: I, fabulicious, have been workin’ on my fitness. No joke. They’re ice skating in Hades, dahling.

Considering the fact that 40 was rapidly approaching, I decided it was time to ditch my precious ciggies, lighten up on the vodka (and champagne … and tequila … oh, how the list goes on), finally make friends with vegetables and — gasp! — develop a fitness regime.

My plan lingered in the development stage for a few months. This was due to three reasons: 1) Sloth and I are dear, old friends, 2) I heart sugar-laden treats, and, 3) I’m not a fan of most gyms and gym people. There, I said it: Gym culture freaks me out. I don’t want to buy the gear and show up to the group sessions and chat with all the gymmies about gymness. I’m not saying it’s wrong; I’m just saying it’s not my thing.

Enter personal trainer Jonathan Rockwell, founder of The Machine Training Systems (505.573.5753). I’d heard about him from a trusted friend who shares the same slacker values and gym phobia as I. Even so, I still worried. I’d tried several gyms and several personal trainers over the years. No bueno. However, 40 was breathing down my neck, so I took the plunge one more time.

“Expect to achieve your goals,” he declared at our first meeting. “Let’s begin.”

Click here to read the rest of the column. 

Posted on October 14, 2011 and filed under Fabü.