I am submitting the following story for inclusion in the Authoritarian section. This is my first attempt at writing a story and I welcome any feedback from readers at this address. I think you'll really like it!
Getting in Shape
Chapter One
Looking back, it all began so innocently. My girlfriend had been dogging me about my beer belly. When I was in college, I was a jock and had a jock's build. Ten years later though my inactivity, job stress, bad eating and drinking habits had caught up with me. I hadn't really minded, or even noticed until she started goading me about it. She saw a picture of me shirtless in my college yearbook and said she wanted me to look like that again.
I made a few half-hearted efforts to exercise and diet, but nothing much changed. One day we actually got into a fight over it. That same evening, I didn't have anything to read on the train home and picked up a newspaper from the seat. I didn't notice much about the paper except that it was open to an ad for an intense fitness program. The part that caught my eye was "You can get the body of your dreams or your money is 100% cheerfully refunded." I tore out the ad and stuffed it in my pocket. It might have stayed there, except for the fact that when I undressed to shower that night, I took a good look in the mirror and realized my girlfriend was right. I had a big gut, and my formerly muscular chest looked saggy and my arms flabby. Ugh, no wonder she was unhappy.
I flopped onto the bed that night and dug the number out of my pants pocket.
"Well, it can't hurt to call and find out what the deal is" I thought to myself. I was a little taken aback when the guy at the other end answered with,
"Yeah, what is it?"
Immediately I started wondering whether this was a professional operation. I almost hung up, because he sounded gruff and annoyed, but I said, trying to match his tough act, "Yeah, I'm calling about your fitness program ad."
At this point he got friendlier and said, "Oh, sorry, I thought it was someone else...What would you like to know about it?"
I explained my situation to him and asked how long the program lasted and how much it cost.
"Well, first of all, I'll have to meet you for an evaluation and consultation. We don't offer this incredible guarantee unless we think you have what it takes to succeed."
I pressed him for details, but he put me off until we met. I asked if we should meet at the gym, and he instead suggested a coffee shop. "This isn't about what you look like or what you can do, but about your mental attitude," he explained. I didn't know whether to be skeptical or annoyed or to forget the whole thing. But for some reason I went through with meeting him.
A few days later I found myself sitting across from "Christopher" at a Starbucks. He seemed pleasant and legitimate I thought, and he certainly appeared to have the sort of physique that would go along with being a professional trainer. We talked at length about many topics, most unrelated to my fitness goals. I couldn't figure out where he was coming from. But at the end of an hour or so he announced,
"Well, OK, you're in if you want to be."
Dumbfounded, I asked again about the price and the program details.
He asked, "How much weight do you want to lose?"
I answered probably 30-40 pounds.
He replied, "Four weeks, ten thousand bucks and you'll be in shape." At this point I decided he was out of his mind. How in the world?
"How often do I come to the gym for that much money?"
"Oh, you don't COME to the gym, you STAY at the gym."
"Huh? What about work?"
"Are you serious about this or not? If you're not then don't waste my time.
My program can have you whipped into shape in four weeks -- take it or leave it."
"I'll have to think it over."
"That's fine, call me if you decide you want it, otherwise just have another beer and Twinkie and forget the whole thing."
And then he stood up and was gone. As I watched him walk out, I was flabbergasted, but I couldn't help but think about how much I'd like to be in shape like him.
Chapter Two
I had very nearly decided to take his advice and have another beer, but for some reason I could never get him or the mysterious program out of my mind. I told my girlfriend about it. She said she hadn't meant I had to do something that extreme, but that whatever I wanted to do was fine. She reminded me that I should be able to have that much overtime coming added to my vacation and that I might even be able to get some of the program costs covered with our health plan. I finally called Christopher back and pressed him for a few more details.
"Yes, you tell me what weight you want to be and what you want your waist, chest, and arm measurements to be, and if your goal is not met, you owe us nothing. Yes, you can have that in writing."
Next I was in for an even bigger shock. My girlfriend had told me to ask about nights and weekends and when we could see each other.
"No time off." He declared, "I'm not going to have you going out and going off your diet. You are surrendering yourself 100% to the program - that's what you have to commit to. I thought you had the right stuff, if not, forget it."
"Can I at least call my girlfriend?"
"Sure you can"
Well, to make a long story short, five weeks later, I found myself with my schedule arrange and packing my bags for "Fat Camp." I must be out of my mind...
Chapter Three
Christopher had told me that the next group would be convening on this particular evening. I packed workout clothes, sneakers, books, radio, everything I could think of that I might need. As instructed, I hadn't brought any snacks! I was taken aback again when I arrived at the address. I'd assumed that I would be at some fitness facility downtown, but the address took me clear out of town to what appeared to be a residence in the country. Christopher met me at the front door of what appeared to be his house.
"Where's everyone else? Where's the gym?" I asked. In retrospect, that should red flag should have sent me back to my car and back to the city.
"All in good time." Christopher assured me, "You're the first one here, after we complete the paperwork and preliminaries, I'll take you to the fitness center and introduce you to the rest of the team."
He gave me a long, legal-looking contract that spelled out our agreement. I handed over the $5000 in cash as he'd requested, and he gave me a receipt. As previously agreed, if satisfied, I'd pay the balance at the completion of the program, if not, my first $5000 would be refunded. "What's the worst that could happen?" I wondered.
He offered me a drink and laughingly advised me to take it, as I'd be on a strict diet from here on in. He threw back his head and laughed and gave me such an engaging smile, that somehow I just knew that he was indeed the one to get me in shape and that I was really going to enjoy working with him. He was like the funny, popular, athletic camp counselor that everyone wanted to hang around as a kid. As if to complete the effect, he put his hand around my shoulders and said, "You are really going to do it! You're going to leave here in four weeks with the body of your dreams!" "How can that be possible?" I asked. "Leave that to me, he said, movie stars do it all the time to prepare for roles."
He then loaded me into his van and drove me over a dirt road to a huge barn like structure further back on his property. There were lots of lights on, but still no other cars, again I felt another pang of doubt. But when we went inside, any doubt I had about the legitimacy of the program and facility were evaporated. It was an incredible, state of the art gymnasium.
It was beautiful inside. Christopher told me that the first step would be my check in and weigh in, he apologized and said that he would have to check my luggage for me and that he would complete that while I stripped down for my weigh in. "Take everything off but your jockstrap and meet me in the gym." he instructed, you have to wear the same thing for your weigh-in's so we're sure they are accurate each day. I was a little embarrassed thinking about showing him and the other guys my flabby physique, but I got the feeling that I didn't have a choice.