Day 1 Will I love you tomorrow?

I clean the house. That means someone who has never been here before is coming over. Like a seven-year-old expecting a favorite friend, I gather my toys together so that we can play. I'm secretly hoping he's excited and impressed that I have these things, but also fear that he will think - well obviously she doesn't use them....

We do our fitness assessment. He has a high tech scale that sends electronic signals through my body and tells me how much of my weight is bone, water, muscle and fat. I think there's a science fiction book or show somewhere that refers to humans as sacs of water. He also takes my measurements. I'm not too concerned with these numbers since I anticipate them moving in the directions that indicate I'm getting fitter.

The workout wasn't awful. It certainly wasn't any worse than his Sunday classes at church and not as intense as Kettle Bell or Kick Boxing. I suspect he was going a little easy on me. Don't get me wrong, I was huffing and puffing and sweating, and my muscles certainly fatigued.

 I like having the one-on-one attention, and I was thrilled that he complimented my form.
Afterwards we talked about his pricing. I don't know what's high or low, but he's giving me a break, and considering how much we paid for dance, gymnastic, art, and music lessons, I'm sure we can swing this.

Then I ask him how much I should be working out thinking he'll say aerobics two times a week. No... he says and hour each day or 10,000 steps. Yes I know that I will see results. There is no doubt in my mind that I'll see results. Is this what I signed up for? Apparently yes. Can I find an hour each day to work out? Sadly yes. It will replace the hour I spend sitting around waiting for someone to notice me or something to happen. I'll make it happen.