My never-ending quest for permanent weight loss finally landed me kicking and screaming in a fitness club. Okay, so I wasn’t actually kicking or screaming, but it did take a lot of cajoling to get there. I love the people that work in these places (sarcasm intended). They are so transparent in their attempts to reel you in. The lady that was helping me was clearly new and throughout the whole process, she kept trying to convince me to get my husband to join too. Now I must point out that this was a women’s only gym, so of course I was perplexed. She did mention afterward that they had co-ed clubs as well, which did nothing to quell my irritation, seeing as we were there to talk about me. She then proceeded to tell me that I had to be assessed, so that I would know exactly what my fitness level was. And that I would have to pay for it. I could have told her that my fitness was negative on whatever scale they used. I could have told her that for free. But she insisted that they had to measure every inch of excess fat, and my body mass index and how much weight and how many inches I had to lose. I tried to tell her that if they did all that I would probably go home and kill myself and then how would they get their monthly dues. But the newbie was tenacious, she would not let go until I agreed. So now I have to come up with excuses to go and exercise on the sly, without having her hound me about my fitness assessment. Oh joy! Luckily my friend came with me and saved me from what might have been the first fitness club murder in my neck of the woods. She proceeded to show me how to use the menacing equipment that lined the walls. I’ve had nightmares in which I’m flying off those things in mid-stride with nothing to hold on to but the sports bra straps of the unsuspecting woman exercising furiously on the machine behind me. All in all, it was a morning unmarred by catastrophic events, but there’s still time. I plan to go back, so all I can say is watch out people.