I’ve been married for four years — all to the same woman. But if I want to keep her around, I need to look less like a clothes hanger and more like those cabana boys my wife, Kelli, drools over. I need some muscles, pronto.
That’s why, after sharing my sob story with the good folks at the Chilson Recreation Center in Loveland, CO, I decided to get ripped. For three months, they agreed to donate two personal trainers and a nutritionist to my physique three times per week for one hour.
Reporting for duty
Once I arrived at the Chilson Center, I found out that I am the fattest skinny person ever. Despite pointy elbows and knees that have left girls giggling for the last two decades, I have managed to have a weight problem in all the non-bone areas. After a barrage of tests, including a Darth Vador breathing mask hooked around my face while I walked uphill both ways through the snow on a treadmill, a little printout said I had a 20.1 percent body fat composition and marginally catastrophic cardiovascular fitness.
One month in
After the first month of working out, I really started to feel my muscles more. I don’t mean the pain, which I felt too, I mean just remembering that they are there. Everything just seemed to tighten up a little.
One of my trainers, Paul Stofko, was patient with me and helped me understand why we’re doing each exercise. He took a pretty laid back approach, but still made sure I worked my rear off. Every once in awhile, I caught him grinning when I really struggled — probably like how firefighters feel when there’s finally a fire to put out.
I lifted weights twice a week and then did cardio on the other day. That’s the day I liked to call hurt day. It was great fun — in a throw uppy kind of way.
Muscles, take two
By the end of month two, I saw some real results. Stofko had me do these plank exercises in which I had to hold myself up with just my forearms and toes with one foot touching the ground. Each time I held the pose for anywhere from 45 seconds to two minutes, and he measured it on a stopwatch that was rigged to measure one second for each year that passed.
We did three sets of that during every session. Stofko was convinced planks were an effective way to strengthen the torso. And I was convinced that so is balancing elephants on my nipples, but you didn’t see us doing that, did you?
The cold hard truth of the matter, though, is that he was right. It worked. I got stronger, more fit and generally better suited to save the world. And you should see my torso … it’s fantastic (this is a lie, but it is getting better; and when I say better, I mean less beer bellyish).
Get tickets to the gun show
After three months of working out, the gig is finally up. How did I do, you ask? Get ready for the gun show, dear reader, ‘cause this boy is ripped. OK not really ripped, per se. I did not magically become the Incredible Hulk in three months. But I’m off to a good start. Even Kelli noticed. She said she saw a big difference in my arms, legs and chest. And what a difference it has made in my buns.
You know how some guys don’t have a butt? Well, I’m one of them. But after a couple months, I’m getting a rear end. Sure, it’s no ba-donk-a-donk (let’s see you spell check that you armchair proofreaders), but it’s no longer a spokes-hiney for pancakes, either.
And now that I’ve alienated half my reader audience with rear-talk, let’s move on. Overall I made great gains in fitness and strength. I improved to have “good” fitness — at least judging by Chilson’s fancy equipment. I went up in maximum pushups in a minute from 46 when I started to 59 on the last day. My sit-ups increased from 75 to 91.
So now that the three months are over, I have a decision to make: Continue in my quest for muscles, working out three times a week for about an hour, or do I let it all go and return to being the case of the missing buttocks?
And who knows, if my rear end ever gets all ba-donk-a-donk on me, I’ll go on a Jennifer Lopez-brand rear diet for me. Wait a minute, did I just say rear diet?