Feelin The Burn
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E. L. Koslo
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9.4M
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77
Chapter 1
Hannah
“Looking at these test results, we need to start talking about lifestyle changes,” Dr. Isaacs sat down across from me and sighed as she scanned the contents of my file before looking up at me.
“I already go to the gym.” Most people assumed I didn’t, based purely on my size, but I frequently walked on the treadmills or used the light weight machines. It never seemed to make a difference, but I still went.
“I know you do, and it’s been a blessing that you’ve tried to stay active. But we need to start looking at a whole-body approach.” The older woman peered over the bridge of her glasses with a calculating look.
“Dr. Isaacs, I get it. I’m a big girl. I’ve always been a big girl. I’ve tried dieting before, and it doesn’t work.”
My weight had been an ongoing conversation with every medical professional and family member for as long as I could remember.
Han is carrying a little extra weight… It was always the same.
I wasn’t huge, but I definitely wasn’t skinny and I never had been.
“I think we need to talk to a nutritionist and get you into something a little more strenuous than just walking on the treadmill a few times a week.”
The word strenuous made me cringe, but I knew that to make a difference, I’d need to try something new.
“It’s not going to make a difference. It never does. I’m okay with that.” Saying I was resigned to my fate was a little dramatic—I was just over trying to please everyone.
“You may be okay with that, but having a heart attack or a stroke before you’re forty will be a lot harder to come back from,” Dr. Isaacs said with a frown.
She wasn’t pulling any punches today, but I thought she was being a tad dramatic.
“I’m not gonna have a heart attack.” My voice was a little shaky, as if I were trying to convince myself that health problems weren’t inevitable.
“Your cholesterol is elevated, your stress tests indicate you may already be developing a blockage, and your body fat percentage is in the morbidly obese range.”
Okay, maybe I was skating a little too close to the unhealthy line.
“I’m not telling you to go be a supermodel. I’m telling you that you need to take your health more seriously,” Dr. Isaacs sounded genuinely concerned, but in my late twenties, I had a hard time taking this information seriously.
“Fine. What do I need to do?” I asked as she smirked at my response.
“I’ve got a list of personal trainers who I think have some programs that could be tailored to your abilities,” she said as she typed something into the computer on the desk.
“No. I don’t want a personal trainer. They always start lecturing me on keto this and Atkins that.”
I was not getting myself into another situation where a “fitness professional” lectured me on my lifestyle choices. I liked Peanut Butter Cups. So what?
“A few of them teach group instruction. We could start with that and see how comfortable you are.” The arched eyebrow she aimed in my direction indicated that she was not planning to let this go.
“Please don’t let them single me out. I hate being the lone fat girl in those classes and having everyone stare at me.” My voice wavered as I took a deep breath.
“I’m going to recommend some high-intensity interval training classes to start. You can go at your own pace, ease your way in.”
She made it sound easy, but I knew it was anything but. It just seemed like torture. High-intensity anything sounded like torture.
“Is this really necessary?” I asked, knowing she probably wouldn’t budge.
“I’m gonna be honest, Hannah. I’m concerned about your overall body fat percentage creating major health problems for you down the line.”
Well, that was ominous. Dr. Isaacs pretty much nailed the coffin shut on me protesting this.
“I’ll have my nurse give you the contact information for the fitness studio I think you should check out.”
“Thank you.” I sighed. The woman really was just trying to do her job. I knew that…but I didn’t have to like it.
A crinkling sound filled the small room as I shifted on the uncomfortable white paper under my bare butt cheeks. My apparently too large bare butt cheeks.
“I want you to make a follow-up appointment for three months from now. I’d like to monitor your progress. Our goal is to keep you off medications if we can.”
She stood and nodded before disappearing out of the exam room door and closing it behind her.
I pulled back on my leggings and flowy top—it hid a multitude of sins, and I didn’t feel the need to dress up to go to the doctor’s office.
“Knock, knock.” A chipper voice sounded from the other side of the closed door.
“I’m good.” I sighed as my fingers toyed with the sheet over my lap.
“Hannah?” A tall, slender brunette peeked her head around the corner with a tablet in her hand.
“That’s me,” I responded, hoping my voice didn’t sound too bitter. Of course, the nurse looked like a supermodel.
“Okay... so I’m gonna give you the contact information for a few of the coaches at the fitness studio that I think would work for you. Personally, I’d try to get into a consultation with Jordan.”
She winked as she thrust a packet of information at me.
“Uh... are there any female coaches on that list?” I asked as I bit my lip. Male fitness trainers intimidated me.
Who was I kidding... all fitness trainers intimidated me, but a six-pack-laden, sweaty god telling me how out of shape I was did not sound like my idea of a good time.
Nurse Kellie nodded as she pointed at a name midway down the list.
“There are. But Jordan is probably the best. He helped my husband once he got out of the rehab center after shoulder surgery,” she told me, with a little inflection of awe in her voice.
“He understands that people have real lives and tries to help them develop a fitness plan that makes it easy to stay committed. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he’s a total catch. I mean, obviously, that’s not the main reason to go to him, but this guy makes Zeus look like a stick figure.”
I smiled numbly, feeling the butterflies in my stomach.
I had a mental image of some faceless muscle god running his hands down my flabs as he guided my push-up form. I shuddered inwardly.
The nurse, sensing my discomfort, gave me a reassuring look. “I’m proud of you for being open-minded about this,” she said.
I didn’t feel that way, but I knew I needed to try.
Being a little chubby as a teen had turned into being significantly overweight as an adult. It had happened so gradually that I didn't realize it was a problem until it became a major issue.
A problem that Dr. Isaacs now expected me to take control of.
“I’m willing to try. But if any of those ‘coaches’ make fun of my thighs, they'll hear an earful,” I declared.
I tried to sound intimidating, but I wasn’t even fooling myself, let alone Nurse Kellie. The moment one of these coaches said something mean, I knew it would be my last visit to that ridiculous fitness studio.
“I promise Jordan won’t. He may push you hard and make you do exercises you really don’t want to, but he would never shame you for your weight,” Kellie reassured me as she gently patted my hand.
“Here... this is a four-class free pass. Just go and try a few classes first. Then you can worry about talking to Jordan later,” she advised as she dropped a paper pass into my hand.
