I waved. “Have a nice weekend, Pearl.”
She waved back, flashing another smile at Cord, who called after her, his voice too loud. “Have a good night!”
Despite my bad mood, I reached out a hand to offer him a high five he didn’t return. “Those tutorials on talking to women are paying off.”
“Fuck you,” he said, dropping his head to his hands.
“I’m just giving you shit, man.” I settled back, enjoying my friend’s mild misery.
“Anyway.” He stood and clapped me on the shoulder. “Pick up a client or two. You get less edgy when you’re coaching.” Cord tossed his messenger bag over his head and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Want to grab a beer?”
“Nah. I’m gonna hang for a while.” I took a swig from the water bottle but didn’t get up from the floor.
“Okay.” He headed for the door. “And, Wes?” Cord paused and faced me again. “I know there’s something going on. Offer stands.”
“Thanks, man.”
Cord held up a hand and disappeared down the hall. I let my head fall back against the wall and stared at the ductwork again. Painted black, it was a step up from the apartments with exposed wires and tape holding the pipes together. When my sister, Libby, was small, she was scared they’d fall on her in the run-down places we’d lived, so I made them into characters in bedtime stories so she wouldn’t worry. The tale of Mr. Sparky and the Dusty Cobweb.
For a second, my lips tipped up at the memory, and I released a heavy breath.
February.
Scrubbing my palms down my face, I shook my head. Okay. Enough. I popped up and strode down the hall to my office, brought my computer to life, and logged into the administrator portal for the app. Cord was right. A client would keep me distracted from everything swirling in my head and the administrative tasks piling up on my desk.
Most new clients were paired with a coach automatically through our matching algorithm, but sometimes people’s intake information was reviewed manually if they made special notations or added unique comments. Three new registrations were in the queue to be assigned a coach the next morning, and I skimmed through them—an ex-bodybuilder from Akron, a retired teacher in Scottsdale, and an assistant in Chicago. The bodybuilder wanted to get back into the sport; I clicked the button to assign her to a coach we’d just hired who competed in natural bodybuilding competitions. I clicked the button to assign the teacher to me. SamTheMan6 had diabetes and a rare heart condition, so I sent the standard welcome email and added a note to have the client confirm they’d checked in with a doctor before coaching began. I dragged the mouse to x out of the system, but the assistant’s profile lingered on the screen.
I scrolled through her demographic information and the first few responses. Nonsmoker . . . wants to eat better . . . exercise more. Seemed standard, and I wasn’t sure what had kicked her application out of the automated process. I hovered over the button to assign her to someone else.
What are your specific short-and long-term goals? To look and feel good naked.
What does being healthy mean to you? To look and feel good naked after eating a salad.
Comments: I can work with anyone, except a Packers fan. I’d hate to have beef with my coach from the beginning.
I laughed out loud in the quiet office.
I reread her answers and chuckled again before clicking the button to assign myself as Bmoney34’s coach. I can handle two clients.
From: FitMiCoachWes1
To: Bmoney34
Sent: February 1, 7:12 p.m.
Bmoney34,
Welcome to FitMi Fitness! I am your coach, and my name is Wes （he/him/his pronouns）。 I’m excited to help you reach your goals. Please read the message below for important information about your registration and our programs—that will give you a good idea of what to expect.
I have a degree in exercise science and ten years’ experience coaching and teaching fitness and nutrition. You can reach me through the system on our website or through the mobile app.
Let’s get moving.
Wes
P.S. I’m a Bears fan from way back.
5
LIKED BY BETHANYHM AND 659 OTHERS
Have you heard about this new diet?
Underwear that camouflages your thighs?
Selfie poses to thin your face?
I’ve heard about them all. Spoiler alert: No one sticks to that diet and it probably doesn’t work anyway, the underwear cuts off circulation, and your friends know what you look like in real life, so who cares? That brings me to now. I’m Britta. I’m a writer, a coffee lover, a devourer of books, and I’m fat. I know that’s a scary word for many people, but I try not to give it that power. This project is not about me avoiding or running away from being fat. It’s not about chasing some arbitrary ideal body or anything like that. Truth is, I want to be more active and I want to eat better, so I’m about to sign up for a fitness app, request a personal trainer, and invite you to watch how it pans out. I imagine there will be tears, crushing defeat, and swearing along the way, but I promise to tell you the truth at every step. You can celebrate with me at the end.