When There's A Will

As of last night, I have another new trainer at the gym. Jeremiah has left my gym for one in another town.

When he told me he was leaving, I had mixed emotions. I liked working with him from an exercise standpoint, but he was way too quiet. I really need someone who will chat with me while I work out. So when, after our last session, he offered to make me an appointment with someone new, I asked him who was the most fun. He suggested someone named Will and pointed to a guy who was presently sitting on top of the overhead leg press apparatus while one of his trainees strained to move the weights and him.

Perhaps I should have elaborated on what I meant by fun.

But as it happened, Will turned out to be a nice guy, and definitely chatty. When we started the first exercise, he asked me why I'd signed up for training, saying I didn't really look like I needed it. I was flattered, although I took the compliment with a grain of salt. Though I'm sure he was at least somewhat sincere, he reminded me a bit of those guys in movies who are introduced to a girlfriend's mother and, smiling slyly, admonish the girl for not mentioning having a younger sister. We continued working, and at one point, he lowered the weight I was using, commenting that he "prefers form over weight."

"You could use that on your online dating profile," I joked.

"Nah," he told me. "That's not really true. I like a big girl." He elaborated that he likes a girl with "a 60-inch waist and an ass you can rest a coffee cup on."

No wonder he didn't think I needed any training. I'm surprised that he didn't send me out for a double cheeseburger instead.