The gym I go to is trying to do me in. They took away the Food Network.
On every treadmill and cross trainer with a little television attached to it, you used to be able to pound your heart out while watching some foodie mix up an Italia
n dish with enough fat grams to take you through the middle of next week.
Listen, I'm not proud that I watch food shows when I go to the gym. I would always get a machine on the back row where no one could see what I was watching. That way I could hold my head up while I worked out and simultaneously watch someone dump a chocolate mousse into a pastry shell.
Don't judge me; at least I was at the gym.
If someone got on the treadmill next to me, I'd switch to a news channel so I didn't look like a total slacker but, the truth is, the Food Network motivated me to workout. Is that so wrong? (That's a rhetorical question; don't answer.)
When the Food Network first disappeared from the channel selections, I thought maybe the machine I was on wasn't getting good satellite reception. So I moved to the machine next to it. And to the next one and to the next one. After moving to four different machines, you begin drawing attention to yourself.
I tried 10 different machines and not one of them gets the Food Network. I'm pretty sure they discontinued it.
So what am I going to do? Sashay up to one of the trainers the ultra-thin, ultra-fit, "I-hate-fat" trainers and demand they bring back the Food Network? Like they care that I can't watch Paula Deen lower fritters into a bubbling vat of melted Crisco.
These trainers are fit. They're so lean that even their names are thin: Ki, Rys, Su.
I could mention the situation to the front desk, but I'm worried the next time I check in, someone will get on the loud speaker and say, "She's here the woman who vicariously consumes more calories than she burns during each and every workout. Please join us in making her feel bloated."
I considered dropping a note in the suggestion box, but they have surveillance cameras. And, no, I'm not going to wear a ski mask.
It's not like I'm asking them to put vending machines loaded with Cheetos in the lobby. I just want something besides news and sports to watch on the tube.
I am not alone here. I am part of a group that is easily intimidated, and not just because we may carry few extra pounds and can't do the high kicks in Tae-bo.
A friend who goes to the same gym has fallen off the treadmill lately. She worked with a trainer for nine weeks. Diligently. Faithfully. Young guy, real nice, she got to know him like a son where his family was from, where he was going on vacation. She sweat and ached and did everything he told her to. She didn't get dramatic results, but she was still grateful.
To show her thanks, she made caramel corn for the front desk and baked the trainer a blueberry pie.